


Jadesteel

by Alette



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Interspecies Relationship(s), Love at First Sight, M/M, Swords & Sorcery, They're Going on a Quest, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alette/pseuds/Alette
Summary: Guanheng is a young dragon living a peaceful, solitary existence in his cave on a hill. Until a breathtakingly beautiful human warrior crashes in, armed with a heavy sword and ready to slay him for a crime he didn’t commit. Somehow, the two end up going on an unexpected journey of adventure, magic, and possibly even romance.
Relationships: Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 77
Kudos: 221





	1. Bloodstone

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to our goofy, gorgeous, talented prince ♡
> 
> I am awful with the tagging, please let me know if you have any suggestions. And thank you for giving my work a chance!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragon meets the warrior.

Someone was in Guanheng’s cave.

The dragon roused himself from sleep, stretching his limbs. He could faintly detect a presence by the mouth of the cave that was his home, a single soul that had just stepped into the dark that was his domain. A human, alone.

Guanheng sighed. He had never enjoyed killing humans, but trespassing was a mortal crime where it concerned a dragon.

He made his way through the shadows of his home. He was at home in the dark as he was in the light, the energy of his core spread out across the entire space like a gossamer spiderweb, and inside the cave he controlled all. Guanheng slunk out of one of the pocket dimensions he had built in his cave and into the tangible space of the stone hollow. His claws moved across the rock surface silently as he crawled up the wall, up onto the ceiling to observe the human below. 

It was a knight. His hair was short, white like moonlight and glowing like a halo around his head. He wielded a large, double-edged sword in his right hand, a burning torch in his left. A shield was slung around his left arm. He was still slender unlike the other foolish knights that had bothered Guanheng ages ago; the armor he wore underneath his rag-like nondescript brown clothing could not be very thick. Guanheng lowered himself slightly, intrigued by this human who dared enter his cave without heavy armor. The human’s senses must have prickled at this, for he quickly threw his head back to look at the ceiling, holding the torch out over his face.

Guanheng’s breath caught in his throat. 

The human was beautiful. 

In the glow of the torch his strong, handsome features seemed to come alive, casting dark shadows under his sharp jawline, the line of his nose. The ends of his moonlit hair fell into piercing eyes that looked golden brown under the firelight. His lips parted ever so slightly as his focused gaze swept over the ceiling, searching for the eyes he must have felt on him.

Guanheng slipped away and into another shadow door. There in that space the human would never find, he morphed from his beast form to his human one. The weak, gangly limbs were uncomfortable, and Guanheng took some time getting used to them. He moved from one hidden space to another, gathering clothing and stretching his long-unused human skin, until finally he was presentable. And then he opened a door out of the space he had made where there was no space and into the plane of reality where his knight fumbled in the dark.

The dragon waited until the human had breached the cave to where he was too far from the mouth to turn back, and then he called out, “Who enters?”

The knight tensed. “Who is that? Show yourself!”

His voice was beautiful to match the rest of him. “You are the one trespassing in my home,” said Guanheng. “You should introduce yourself first.”

A moment of hesitation, and then: “Dejun.”

 _Dejun._ Guanheng felt a pang of anger towards whoever had sent him on this suicide mission. He gave out his name so easily, wore no armor. Was this Dejun even a knight?

“I am being generous,” said Guanheng. “Leave now. I won’t kill you.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” said Dejun. “I can’t let you continue to abduct people unopposed.”

Guanheng frowned. “Abduct people? I haven’t abducted anyone.”

“The villages surrounding your hill have had people taken away in the night, never to return,” said Dejun. “What is taking them, if not you?”

“Something else,” said Guanheng. 

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Dejun hefted his torch. “You won’t even show me your face. Come into the light instead of hiding in the dark.”

Guanheng hesitated. He ran his fingers through his sable hair, styling it away from his face and frowning as he felt the short, antler-like horns sitting high on his head. He had not taken this form in a while, and it was apparent in his beast characteristics that refused to go. The short horns, the curved claws, the scales at the ends of his fingers and creeping along the sides of his face… Guanheng could only hope he didn’t look too grotesque in this unusual mix of beast and human.

He shook his shoulders and stepped into the light.

Dejun took a step back, shoulders rising in tension. There was caution on his face, but no disgust. That was good. Guanheng thought he might have cried if his pretty human had looked at him with disgust. 

“Happy?” Guanheng easily ambled forward, watching Dejun watch him with sharp eyes. He grinned. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me so badly.”

Dejun ignored that. “You’ve taken your third state form,” he said.

Well that was a surprise. Dejun knew enough about dragons to know this was Guanheng’s third form; most thought dragons had only two. Perhaps he was a knight after all. 

“You’d rather talk to me in my beast form?” Guanheng kept his hands loosely clasped behind his back as he stepped to the side. Dejun mirrored the movement, making sure to keep the dragon directly opposite. Gods, he was so cute, being so careful. 

“Of course,” said Dejun. “It would make it easier to kill you.”

Guanheng wanted to laugh. They were in his cave, and Dejun was just one man. “I admire your spirit,” he said. “I suggest you leave before—”

Pain erupted in Guanheng’s shoulder. He staggered back against the stone wall from the impact of it, looking down to find the handle of a dagger jutting out right below his collarbone. Stunned, Guanheng raised his gaze once more to find Dejun before him, inches from his face, amber gold eyes blazing. 

Something cold and sharp pressed against Guanheng’s skin behind his chin.

On instinct he tried to see what, but Dejun slid a hand in his hair and gripped his head still. “Don’t,” he said quietly, breath fanning across Guanheng’s face. 

Guanheng fell unmoving.

“Any final words?” asked Dejun. 

Guanheng opened his mouth but nothing came out. He swallowed, and was finally able to say, “Why?”

“Why what?” Dejun’s brow furrowed. He had very nice eyebrows, Guanheng saw now, thick and dark and perfectly shaped. Guanheng actually had a wonderful view of the human’s face so close up. It was almost worth a sword in the skull. Dejun couldn’t kill him without a blade forged of dragonslayer steel, as rare now as black rubies, and getting stabbed in the head wasn’t too poor a prospect when it was a beautiful man doing it. 

_No, fool, don’t get distracted._ Guanheng licked his lips. “Why do you want to kill me?” he asked. “I’ve lived peacefully here for years. I’ve done nothing wrong.” He thought of the farm animals he had carried off, and amended, “Nothing very wrong.”

“Did you not hear me?” demanded Dejun. “I know you’ve been abducting people from the nearby villages.”

“And did you not hear me when I said I had nothing to do with that?” returned Guanheng. He huffed. “Of course, why would you care who is guilty or not? All you care about is a new trophy for your wall.”

The hand in Guanheng’s hair pulled sharply. “What did you say?”

Guanheng thought of morphing to beast form and attacking, but Dejun’s sword was near breaking the skin and it would take him no more than an instant to force it up and into Guanheng’s brain. He could not slip into a shadow space without taking Dejun with him, not while he maintained that grip in his hair. 

The knight well and truly had him. 

“I’m telling you I’m innocent, and you won’t listen,” said Guanheng, gritting his teeth. 

“You’re lying,” said Dejun. 

“Why would I?” asked Guanheng. “Since it seems you have every intention of killing me regardless.”

A shadow of a frown passed over Dejun’s face. “If you didn’t take all those people, then what did?” he asked after a moment’s silence.

Guanheng nearly shrugged before the pain in his shoulder stopped him. “How would I know?” he said. “I don’t leave my cave much.” 

That was an unfortunate truth. Dragons did not make friends with other dragons, and Guanheng had never been skilled at hiding what he was from humans. Humans did not make friends with dragons either. 

Seconds passed with the air in the cave tight with tension. Dejun’s gaze moved over Guanheng’s face, like he was trying to see the lie, but there was no lie to see. Guanheng relaxed against the rock wall. Dejun instantly moved in closer, caging him in against the stone. Embarrassingly, it was the farthest Guanheng had gone with a pretty man in a long time.

 _No, don’t think about that, now is not the time, idiot._ Guanheng repeated the words in his head, but his eyes kept slipping to Dejun’s mouth.

It was moving. Guanheng snapped out of his thoughts. “Sorry?”

“I said,” said Dejun, “if you did not take all those people, then who did?”

“I don’t know,” said Guanheng. “I didn’t even know people were being kidnapped until you barged in here. Without permission, might I add.”

The knight’s gaze only sharpened. And then he asked, “How old are you?”

Guanheng sputtered. “That’s rude!”

“If you were to come with me to where the people were taken, would you be able to find out what took them?” asked Dejun.

Guanheng pursed his lips. The truth was that he couldn’t. Older dragons had fine control over their intensely magical cores, and could do powerful sorcery. Guanheng was barely a century old. Ancient for humans, perhaps, but nothing more than a hatchling to dragons.

But the pretty knight wanted to take him there. He wanted Guanheng’s help, and how could Guanheng give up this opportunity?

Of course, it helped that the alternative was a sword in his brain.

So Guanheng put on his sunniest smile and said, with utter false confidence, “Yes.”

He didn’t know how convincing it came off. Dejun’s brow remained furrowed, and Guanheng realized too late that he must have looked terrifying. Dejun had dropped the torch when he had attacked, and it lay blazing on the rock floor, throwing shadows across Guanheng’s face edged with overlapping scales.

Guanheng tried another angle. “If you’ll let me go, I’ll help you,” he said.

“And why should I do that?” asked Dejun, voice sharp. “I should kill you first, just in case.”

“Please don’t,” said Guanheng. He didn’t try telling Dejun that he couldn’t kill him with his regular steel sword. The knight would likely stab him just to make sure.

Dejun didn’t say anything a while, deep in thought. Guanheng tried relaxing, just an inch, but Dejun shoved him hard against the cave wall again and applied pressure.

“Don’t make me do anything I’d rather not do,” he said.

“We can help each other,” said Guanheng. “I’ll help you find out who’s behind these kidnappings, and in return you do not stab me in the head. That’s more than fair, isn’t it?” He tried another smile before thinking better of it and wearing a serious expression.

“How do I know you won’t attack the minute I release you?” asked Dejun.

“I swear not to,” said Guanheng. “Upon my honor.”

“Dragons have no honor,” said Dejun.

“Rude, but fair,” conceded Guanheng. “But face it, allying with me is your best bet. You can try to kill me, but you’ll be no closer to finding what’s really behind these abductions. A dragon is freely offering his help—how many can say that?”

“I wouldn’t say you’re _freely_ offering help,” said Dejun. “I do have my sword at your chin.”

“Minor details,” said Guanheng dismissively. “So what do you say, Dejun? Allies?”

Dejun looked Guanheng right in his yellow eyes. Slowly, he released his grip in Guanheng’s hair. 

When the knight lowered his sword and took a step back, Guanheng took a deep breath and sagged. That had been close.

“If you try anything, I will not hesitate,” said Dejun, hefting his sword. “Lead the way out, dragon.”

Guanheng waited for the human to pick up the torch before starting towards the mouth of the cave. “I do have a name, you know,” he muttered. 

“Oh? What is it?” asked Dejun, and Guanheng was maybe too pleased to hear his genuine interest.

“Guanheng.”

“Guanheng,” said Dejun. And then he repeated it a few more times, muttering under his breath, like he was trying to get his lips used to the shape of the syllables. Guanheng smiled to himself, bubbles of warmth popping in his chest.

Within minutes they reached the cave entrance, and the afternoon sun beyond. Guanheng’s cave was near the top of a hill, at the foot of which a few villages were scattered. Guanheng could see them now, a few tiled roofs among the thatched, the paved streets snaking between buildings. 

He stretched his arms above his head, closing his eyes and enjoying the afternoon sunshine. It had been too long since he’d taken this form. Guanheng cranked an eye open and found Dejun staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Dejun, quickly looking down at his hands gloved in leather. He was still wielding his sword. 

“You can sheathe that,” said Guanheng. “I won’t eat your face if you don’t stab me.”

Dejun considered Guanheng’s words for a long moment, and then slid his sword into his scabbard. “Let’s go,” he said, resolutely keeping his gaze forward and off Guanheng. 

They descended the gentle incline. There was no marked path, and Guanheng found himself tripping over stones and slipping down loose earth more than once. He huffed and cursed under his breath. Damn human form. It was unsteady and weak and unsuited for anything useful. 

The next time Guanheng tripped he stumbled forward and was caught by Dejun.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” said Guanheng hurriedly, as he struggled to get back upright. “I’m not used to having so few legs,” he added with a laugh, trying to hide how flustered he was, and then immediately cringed. _Fool. Idiot, idiot—_

To his utter shock, Dejun laughed. He had the loveliest laugh Guanheng had ever heard, bursting with merriment like firework powder thrown by the fistfuls into a fire. He seemed surprised himself to have laughed, which only made Guanheng’s heart soften and melt even more. Everything about Dejun was charming. Except for his being a knight and trying to kill Guanheng, of course. 

“That’s—that’s alright,” said Dejun, clearing his throat and trying his best to pretend like he hadn’t just laughed at Guanheng’s poor jest. He looked as though he’d like nothing better than to erase the past few seconds. 

There were reasons dragons weren’t very popular. “You laughed,” said Guanheng at once. “You laughed at my joke.”

“No,” said Dejun, cheeks going red with the obvious lie. Guanheng filed away this vital information in his brain for later use.

“So who got abducted?” asked Guanheng. He should at least pretend to be interested in Dejun’s mission. 

“Two people from the village we’re heading to, four more from the other two nearby,” said Dejun. “The first was the daughter of the village healer. Disappeared in the night. She had been a little high spirited so they assumed she’d just run away. Then another boy from this village went, and a man and his wife from the one to the north east.”

Guanheng only half listened to Dejun’s talk. There was no doubt in his mind that the villagers had been right the first time. Humans left their homes all the time, occasionally without warning. Dejun must’ve left his own home to come and try and stab Guanheng in the head. This endeavor was a wild goose chase.

Guanheng couldn’t believe his good fortune. He would get to spend time with his pretty human, and do nothing in return. It was like walking into a room full of treasure. 

They traversed a few more yards in silence before Guanheng said, “You can remove your armor, you know.”

Dejun glanced at him. “I’m fine.”

“We’re allies now, aren’t we?” said Guanheng. “Just take it off, I won’t attack you. The sound of your clanking is beginning to irritate me. My hearing is very sensitive.”

“That’s only when you’re in your second form,” said Dejun. 

“You know too much about dragons,” said Guanheng with a huff. “Take off the armor. I’m offended.”

Dejun laughed again. This one was more a giggle, really, and Guanheng would’ve immediately commented on it if Dejun didn’t start pulling off his clothes and effectively shut Guanheng up. 

As Guanheng had expected, Dejun was wearing armor underneath. What he hadn’t expected was how much.

It was full plate armor. Dejun was not wearing boiled leather armor, or a few plates of steel. He was wearing a full set of steel armor, breastplate and arm guards and all, and he was still no bigger than Guanheng. 

Guanheng watched, stunned, as Dejun unbuckled his sword belt and set it down on the grassy turf, and then started to work on the various pieces of armor. The braces and shoulder plates came off, then breastplate and padded jacket underneath and the armor on his thighs, until with a final deep breath Dejun removed the last piece and stood before Guanheng unarmored.

He was _tiny_. His shoulders were narrow, his waist so slender Guanheng could half imagine wrapping his hands around it. His bones were fine and delicate like a hummingbird’s. Guanheng had seen smaller, more petite humans, but never as a knight. How did Dejun swing that monstrous sword? How did he carry the weight of that heavy plate armor?

Too late Guanheng realized he had been staring. He looked back at Dejun’s sharp, handsome face and found the human looking back, brow furrowed. “What?” said Dejun.

Guanheng was unable to make a sound in reply. 

It took Dejun a few minutes to wrap all the armor in the brown clothing he’d worn on top and then attach them to his shield, which he slung over his back. Guanheng watched, half in a daze. Dejun looked like a delicate little lordling, dressed in white shirt and good leather breeches. The huge sword he wore at his hip made him look even smaller. 

They traveled only a few minutes in silence before Guanheng cracked under the weight of his curiosity. “How did you become a knight?” he asked.

Dejun blinked. “I’m not a knight.”

Guanheng had asked more to learn how Dejun had been strong and skilled enough to overpower him in his own cave, but the answer he’d received was interesting. “Then what are you?” he asked.

“Sellsword,” answered Dejun.

“What’s the difference?”

“Noble blood,” said Dejun, shrugging. “I don’t have any.”

Guanheng wondered if the humans who had trespassed into his cave before had been noble. All blood looked the same on the rock floor. 

“Why did you become a sellsword?” he asked.

Dejun looked at him sideways. “Why do you want to know?”

“We are allies,” said Guanheng plaintively. “Of course I want to know about you. We’ll likely be spending a lot of time together.”

“That—that’s none of your concern,” said Dejun, quickly averting his gaze from Guanheng. “Don’t take such interest in me.”

Guanheng watched the red bloom in his cheeks like roses. Dejun was pretty, petite and delicate with the strength of a large man, and he flustered easily and with an obvious blush.

Gods, Guanheng was in love. 

The sun dipped below the horizon as they completed their journey down the hell. By the time the two of them came to the nearest village, night had fallen, and lit lamps lined the streets. Guanheng stared at the shops and houses ahead, fascinated. It had been years since he had walked in a human settlement.

“Wait,” said Dejun. He pulled the cloak from his shoulders and put it on Guanheng, fastening it at his collar with deft hands.

“I don’t feel cold,” said Guanheng. Quite the opposite, actually, with Dejun so tenderly settling the cloak about his shoulders. 

“It’s not for the cold,” said Dejun, busy pulling the hood over Guanheng’s head. “People will panic if they find out what you are.”

“Ah, right,” said Guanheng. “That makes sense. More than you worrying about me catching a cold.”

“Dragons can’t get sick like humans,” said Dejun, looking everywhere but Guanheng’s face as he made sure the hood was secure. “Keep your hands under the cloak.”

Guanheng nodded. Dejun scanned him one more time with his sharp, golden brown eyes, and nodded in turn. 

With his draconic vision Guanheng could see there were few people in the streets. He doubted there would be any here sensitive to his aura—mages were rare, and never stayed in backwater villages like this—and didn’t bother attempting to mask it. He doubted it was anything serious. Surely no match for a dragon.

Just as they were descending the final grassy knoll to enter the village, Dejun stopped without warning. Guanheng did as well, and peered at the sellsword’s narrowed eyes. “What?” he ventured to ask.

“Who’s that?” asked Dejun, not bothering to look at Guanheng.

Guanheng followed Dejun’s line of sight until he saw what he was looking at. Outside the small settlement lit with gold were two humans, heading east away from the village. They were far away and shrouded in darkness, but Guanheng could see them clearly. They appeared to be two normal men. 

“Two humans,” he answered helpfully. 

“What are they doing?” asked Dejun. “Where would they be going, at this time, with no lamp?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he changed course and started walking towards the humans leaving the village. Guanheng had no choice but to follow. 

“Maybe they’re going to get some privacy,” said the dragon. He had no idea how humans conducted all their private business with other humans in the building right over, sometimes separated only by wooden or brick walls. 

“Just the two of them, in the dark?” asked Dejun.

“That’s when you need privacy the most,” said Guanheng.

Dejun ignored that. Guanheng tried to see if he was blushing again, but the human caught on and increased his pace. Guanheng huffed and followed.

He hadn’t lit his torch but Dejun moved over the turf expertly in the dark. It was Guanheng who stumbled, night vision be damned. When they were less than a half mile away from the two humans, Dejun called out, “Hey!”

“Don’t bother them,” said Guanheng, panting as he caught up. “They’re probably going to—”

One of the men screeched.

The sound was like a spear through Guanheng’s brain. He clapped his hands over his ears, doubling over from the force of the sound. The piercing screech cut through the night air like a blade, unceasing, deafening. Guanheng felt Dejun stumble against him and instinctively pivoted his body to support him.

And then the scream stopped. And the human changed.

His body ripped apart. Guanheng could see it happen, every bone shift and move and every joint crack and break outward, faster than possible for such a transformation. The human’s body opened like a blooming flower, blood spraying through the air. Something else emerged from the center in a cloud of swirling shadows and the aura of sorcery.

Dejun darted towards it.

Before Guanheng could react the human was gone, running straight at the storm of broken human shell and shadow energy. In a panic Guanheng struggled to follow. Even from this distance he could feel the force of that energy, blazing like a fire, more intense than anything he had felt in years. Dejun was going to get himself killed.

The human ran right towards the danger, drawing his sword as he did. Guanheng could see now that the human skin the creature had worn was all fallen away, but the creature itself was obscured by the swirling shadows that engulfed it. As he ran, tripping over rocks and feet sliding across loose gravel, he could just make out the edges of teeth, claws, a wolf-like snout.

A feeling of deep unease dug itself into Guanheng’s chest. He didn’t know what this thing was, and he didn’t like it.

Dejun charged right at it. With only a stupid plain steel sword, armor wrapped and tied onto his back, Dejun charged. His regular sword would be useless against that magic energy; all he would do was make himself an inviting target, so small and unprotected. Guanheng tried to yell a warning, but it was too late. Dejun swung his sword, not heeding the swirl of magic so powerful it was visible to the mundane eye. 

The creature screamed.

Guanheng’s pathetic human legs gave out and he fell to the ground. He struggled to get to his feet but stumbled back to the grassy turf, fighting against the echoes of the demonic screech in his ears. Ahead he could see Dejun locked in combat with the thing of claw and tooth and darkness. Silver claws swiped at the human, missing him by a hair’s breadth as he nimbly stepped aside. Dejun swung once more, but there was another flash of curved claw and the blow was parried. Another strike, another parry, another counterattack Dejun barely avoided. 

Whatever this thing was, it was fast. Faster than Dejun, despite his quick movements and sharp reflexes. It was yet to use the magical energy it wore like a shroud, fighting instead with fang and claw, but any moment it could grow tired of the game and exercise into that immense power. Dejun would be ripped to ribbons in seconds. 

Guanheng would not let that happen. He took a deep breath, and did what he had not done in decades.

He tapped into his core. 

The force of his draconic energy flooded outwards in a wave. The dark shadows that shrouded the vicious creature were disturbed by a ripple of jade green, visible only to Guanheng’s gaze.

The creature stilled, raising its snout. Guanheng froze. He could release his power but had no great control over it. If the thing chose to attack, he did not know how well he would fare against it in a fight, especially in this fragile form. All he could do was pray the thing did not dare entangle itself with a dragon. 

He had decried Dejun making himself an inviting target, and yet Guanheng had done the exact same thing to save him. 

The dragon gripped the grass under his fingers and waited, heart pounding. It could not be longer than a heartbeat, but it felt like an age that the wolf snout stayed raised to the air, nostrils flaring as it sought the source of that power, tasted its flavor. The snout moved, and within the swirling shadows Guanheng caught a glimpse of a singular brown eye.

The thing fled. 

It moved like lightning, unheeding Dejun and the broken human carcass it had disguised itself in. Like a mass of untethered shadow it sped to the east, faster than any horse or bird, and certainly too fast for Dejun to give chase. The human stared after it, and then screamed in frustration, a torrent of decidedly unattractive curses spilling from his lips. Guanheng watched him, and then he watched the black storm of shadows that rapidly disappeared into the distance, until it was nothing more than dust on the horizon.

He collapsed onto the grass.

Guanheng lay there awhile, gathering his bearings. He did not know what that thing was, but whatever it was it knew enough to recognize a dragon’s energy. The darkness that raged around it was unlike anything Guanheng had seen before. It was no dragon, that was for certain. 

“It fled.”

Guanheng raised his head to see Dejun standing beside his splayed body. He had yet to sheathe his sword, and gripped it tight as he continued, “I couldn’t see much of it through the shadows, and it was dark. It slashed the man it was with to death. Do you know what it was?”

“No,” said Guanheng, and he had no wish to know.

“Damn,” muttered Dejun. “I could’ve had it if it hadn’t run.”

Guanheng gaped at the sellsword, and then sat up to gape at him some more. “Have you lost your senses?” he cried. “That thing would have torn you apart! You should be thanking me for saving your life!”

Dejun’s thick brows furrowed. “It fled because of you? You did something?”

Guanheng nodded.

“It fears you,” said Dejun. He bit his lip, and then said, “The next time we meet it, don’t do that again.”

“The next time we meet it?” Guanheng was aghast. “We are not meeting it again! If I never had to see such a thing again for eternity I would consider it too soon.”

“I was hired to slay the thing taking villagers from this area,” said Dejun, shaking his head. “I must track this creature down and kill it, whatever it may be. Can you track it?”

Wisps of shadow magic remained where the creature had revealed itself, and further traces lingered over the path it had taken. “I can,” said Guanheng. “But I won’t.” He lay down flat to emphasize his decision, and glared at the human.

“You swore to help me,” said Dejun. “I spared your life.”

Gods, he looked so pretty with that frown on his face, lower lip jutting out just the slightest, Guanheng was nearly swayed. But he stood firm and said, “Dragons have no honor, everyone knows that. And you could not have killed me.”

The frown on Dejun’s face only deepened. “I had my sword point under your chin, dragon.”

“Regular steel cannot kill a dragon,” said Guanheng. 

Dejun looked down at him and tilted his head.

Everything happened at once after that. As fast as lightning Dejun was on top of Guanheng, straddling his waist with his slender legs, the edge of his sword against the soft skin of Guanheng’s throat. He held it there with perfect concentration, blade not moving a hair’s breadth.

“I think you’ve been operating on a misconception,” said Dejun quietly. “This is atherite steel.”

Atherite. Guanheng knew that name. It was the rare ore only found in one area in the continent, in a mine that had been ravaged by dragons in the ages hence. It was the only known place that produced the steel resistant to every form of magic and sorcery, both those devised and found naturally, including the formidable magical cores that powered dragons. 

Dragonslayer steel.

“Oh, no,” said Guanheng.

“As you have no qualms about breaking your earlier promise, I have no problem breaking mine,” said Dejun. Very deliberately he slid his hand into Guanheng’s long dark hair. “So, I’ll ask you again, can you track that creature?”

In the darkness Guanheng saw Dejun’s eyes as liquid gold. They focused on his face sharper than the blade at his throat. 

“Yes,” said Guanheng. 

“Will you?” asked Dejun. “Will you track it and show me the way? Will you come with me, and help me slay that creature?”

The dragonslayer sword stayed at Guanheng’s neck. Above him Dejun loomed with molten gold eyes shining and fixed on him, his hand steady and unmoving, ready to slide his sword across Guanheng’s exposed neck with no hesitation. 

The dragon had never seen anything more beautiful. 

“Yes,” said Guanheng, breathless. 

A smile spread on Dejun’s lovely face. He removed his sword from Guanheng’s throat and released his grip in his hair, but made no move to climb off his body. He only straightened, still straddling Guanheng, and looked down at him and smiled. “Allies, then,” he said. 

Guanheng could say nothing, only nod.

Gods, Guanheng was _so_ in love. 


	2. Carnelian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the trail of their prey, dragon and human meet old friends and new dangers.

The sun was shining, leaves dancing in the light breeze. Clouds drifted across an azure sky. The trees were alive in the colors of spring, flowers dotting the foliage in white, pink, red. And among them walked the most beautiful man, shining like a vision with his moonlight silver hair, longsword belted at his narrow hip.

Guanheng was half certain he was dreaming. 

“You’re sure it went this way?” asked Dejun. 

Guanheng nodded. Gods, Dejun would look heavenly with those delicate pink flowers in his hair, tucked behind his ear.

“Straight towards Menhjing,” said Dejun, frowning. 

They had been on the trail of the mysterious shadow magic beast for over a fortnight now. Guanheng had followed the lingering traces of its energy across plains and through forests, away from human settlements. Two days ago, however, the track had abruptly changed direction, and before it faded to nothing marked out a straight line towards the busy town of Menhjing. 

Or so Dejun said. Guanheng had never been in this part of the land, having hatched to the north and only traveling far enough to find a cave of his own. He had never been to Menhjing, or to Shinsong, the capital of the country and further to the south. 

Truth be told, Guanheng did not much care. He had no interest in hunting down this beast of claw and shadow that whisked away humans, or in seeing teeming cities or foreign lands. His only desire was remaining in Dejun’s company. 

The preceding fortnight had done nothing to cure Guanheng of his pining heart—if anything it made it worse. Dejun was delicate in manners as well as looks. He did everything with either an effortless grace or a clumsy charm, no in between. Guanheng had no experience in cooking, having spent nearly all his life in his beast form, and so Dejun took on those duties with no argument or complaint. His skills were only passable, but he never ate without first serving Guanheng and ensuring the food was to his taste. A small gesture, perhaps, but one that captured Guanheng’s heart entirely. 

They traveled the rest of the afternoon, taking only occasional breaks. Guanheng did not tire, his core providing him with stamina even in his human form, and he had discovered Dejun was very hardy for a human. By the time the sun slipped under the horizon and hid her light they were among the firelight lamps of the town of Menhjing. 

Guanheng pulled his hood close around his face and hid his hands in the folds of his cloak. Despite his best efforts he had been unable to rid himself of the traces of his beast form. Dark green scales edged the outside of his face, creeping in at his cheekbones, and his hands were clawed and covered in overlapping scales. He knew most humans would not take kindly to having a dragon in their midst.

“This is a sellsword haunt,” said Dejun as he led the way through the dirt roads. “It is unlikely there will be mages here, but it’s possible. Keep your energy under control as much as you can.”

“I’ll try,” said Guanheng, but he was still a very young dragon and did not have that perfect control over his core yet. “What if one of them realizes what I am? Will they attack?” He did not like the sound of that. Guanheng could defend himself, but he did not want to draw the attention of however many warriors might be present.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” said Dejun without a glance back. “If anyone tries to lay a finger on you I’ll cut them down.”

Guanheng’s heart trilled at the promise of protection.

The tavern Dejun led them to was large, and rowdy even at the early evening hour. Men and women filled the tables, chugging cheap ale from tankards and yelling and laughing with each other. Guanheng had never been in such a busy place. He closed his hand around Dejun’s sleeve and let him navigate the ruckus. 

Dejun appeared to be seeking someone or something in particular, because he looked around the room multiple times before he suddenly stopped, raised his head and called out in a voice clear like a bell, “Xuxi!”

He surged forward with excitement and Guanheng allowed himself to be pulled along by Dejun’s unexpected strength. They went to a table near the back of the large room where there were seated a few men, all drinking. 

“Xuxi, you pox-faced bastard, did you lose your ears along with your brain?” cried Dejun, voice bright. “I was looking for you, you ass.”

Guanheng peered over Dejun’s slight frame to look at the men gathered at the table. Some were big and sweaty, with thick, doughy faces; others were older and had not weathered the years well, carrying scars and wrinkles and warts. Guanheng wondered which of these men was Xuxi and what he had done for Dejun to be so rude to him.

“Dejun, Hell’s beasts, you’re alive!” One of the men slammed his tankard down on the table. “Get the hell out of here, you useless donkeys! Dejun, sit!”

To Guanheng’s surprise, the other men at the table got up with little grumbling. Dejun seemed to be well-known, and some of the men greeted him before leaving, tilting their heads with respect. With the table now empty aside from one man, Dejun took a chair. Guanheng sat in the one beside, never letting go of his sleeve. 

The man Xuxi was not what Guanheng had expected when he heard the words _pox-faced bastard_. He was exceedingly handsome, with hair dark like midnight all pushed away from a face of attractive features: large eyes, strong cheekbones, full lips. He was large and broad, all muscle, no fat. He looked as though he could toss Dejun about with one hand. A monstrous two-handed greatsword peeked over the top of one broad shoulder, a wolf’s maw built into the pommel of the heavy steel faded and worn with use. 

Guanheng shrank further into his cloak. 

“How’ve you been?” asked Xuxi, voice booming, smile wide. “I heard you went to some village to gut a dragon.”

“Had a change of plans,” said Dejun, while Guanheng tried to hide even more under his hooded cloak. “I’m tracking something now, something that might’ve passed through town. You haven’t seen anything odd, have you?”

“Describe odd,” said Xuxi. “You coming back here before a month’s end with your flat ass in one piece is odd enough.”

Dejun grabbed a nearby tankard and threw it straight at Xuxi’s head. The bigger sellsword ducked underneath the mug and spray of beer, and then straightened with a roaring laugh.

“Asshole,” said Dejun, but he was grinning too. “Say that again and I’ll throw the entire table at you next.”

Guanheng watched the exchange, stunned. This was not his sweet, lovely Dejun, the gentle man who helped fold his blankets because the material caught on his claws. This Dejun was an unsophisticated brute. 

Gods, he only got more and more attractive.

“Okay, okay, I’ve learned my lesson,” said Xuxi, still laughing. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“I don’t know,” said Dejun. “It was a huge thing, like a wolf but on hind legs, and it was faster than the devil. It was all covered in magic.”

“Shadow magic,” said Guanheng.

For the first time that night, Xuxi appeared to notice Guanheng. “Oh, hey,” he said. “Who’s this?”

“Guanheng,” said Dejun, and Guanheng could not be sure if he imagined it but it seemed Dejun moved closer to him now. “A friend. I picked him up along the way.”

“I thought you worked alone,” said Xuxi. “You and Yangyang—”

“That was different,” said Dejun shortly.

Guanheng looked at the pretty man, but could read nothing off his stony expression. 

“Right, sorry,” said Xuxi, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Who is Yangyang?” asked Guanheng.

Dejun shot him a sharp look, but Guanheng was uncowed. He looked at Xuxi for an answer.

“A friend of ours,” said Xuxi, either unaffected or unheeding Dejun’s displeasure. “He’s a damn master with bow and arrow and sword too.” He glanced at Dejun and grinned. “Dejun here was obsessed with—”

A tankard shot through the air like a crossbow bolt. Xuxi only just managed to dodge it, ducking at the last possible moment. There looked to be a touch of genuine worry in the bigger man’s wide eyes as Dejun glared at him from across the table. 

“He’s a great fighter, basically,” said Xuxi, eyes still on Dejun in case he attempted another attack. “I heard he passed through here a few days before I showed up a week ago, so we just missed him. Shit luck.”

“Not that bad,” muttered Dejun. 

“He probably could’ve helped you out,” said Xuxi. “He killed two dragons, did you know?”

“I did not,” said Guanheng, deciding he agreed with Dejun. Perhaps it was not that unlucky they had missed this Yangyang. 

“Yeah, he killed the second one all by himself,” said Xuxi. “It’s why Dejun was so intent on taking this job solo like the brainless bastard he is. I’m surprised he’s still alive. What happened to the worm?”

“About that,” said Dejun, while Guanheng scoffed, offended. “It’s a long story. The dragon was innocent, so I let him go.”

Xuxi snorted. “More like tucked tail and fled.”

Guanheng opened his mouth to protest on behalf of Dejun, when he felt a hand close around his. 

“Dragons aren’t that easy to subdue,” said Dejun. “No point in dying meaninglessly.”

Guanheng looked at Dejun’s face, and then down at his own lap where Dejun’s fingers were curled around his own, smooth skin over rough scales.

“I agree,” said Xuxi, nodding. “You did good not getting tangled up with it. You know what dragons are like. Merciless bastards without a shred of feeling.”

Dejun’s hand squeezed Guanheng’s, whether in comfort or in warning, the dragon did not know. “All the ones I’ve heard of,” he said. “Now can we get back to what we came to talk about? A wolf-like creature, huge, emitting enormous amounts of shadow energy.”

“And you’re sure it came this way?” asked Xuxi. “Haven’t heard of anything like it, and something like that wouldn’t be easy to miss.”

“It can disguise itself as a human,” said Guanheng. “It looked like a man the first time we saw it. No sorcery came off it then.”

Xuxi frowned. “And you’re certain it’s a beast?” he asked. “A beast hiding as a human? Wouldn’t it be more likely it’s a man taking the form of a beast?”

Guanheng glanced at Dejun, but the pretty man shook his head. “Shadow energy, Xuxi,” he said. He caught Guanheng’s look and explained, “It’s incredibly powerful, but chaotic and difficult to control. Impossible for a human body to withstand.”

“You’re familiar with sorcery?” asked Guanheng.

“I’m familiar with the principles,” said Dejun, twisting the strands of his silver hair between his fingers. The action was fetching. “I don’t have the talent to practice.”

“I can ask Meirong,” said Xuxi. “Or is Guanheng a good enough mage to find out about it?”

“Asking Meirong might be a better idea,” said Dejun, tightening his grip around Guanheng’s hand. 

“I’m sure she’s somewhere in this shithole,” said Xuxi. He leaned back and took a swig of whatever was in his mug. “Human seems like a good bet. The Beasts of old were the only ones who used shadow magic, but they didn’t hide their energy.”

Dejun’s brows furrowed as he thought it over. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Maybe someone figured something out. Regardless, judging from the trace amount of energy he’s left behind, we can assume he’s traveling in a human form. Then he’ll pass through settlements…”

“We can get Meirong to see if there’s any stray shadow sorcery drifting around Menhjing,” said Xuxi. “Or heading out of it. Even if the bastard can hide his energy he won’t want to sit in a town teeming with idiots with swords.”

Dejun nodded and got to his feet, letting go of Guanheng’s hand in the process. Guanheng rose with him. 

“You don’t have to come with us,” said Dejun. “There are rooms built over the tavern, you can spend the night resting there.” He leaned in and said in a lower voice, “We are going to meet a mage. She will know you from first glance.”

Guanheng did not want to leave Dejun, but he understood. He nodded.

“Aww, don’t make him stay behind,” said Xuxi, grinning wildly. “I would love to get to know your lover boy better.”

This time Dejun did throw the table at him. 

Xuxi went tumbling back and fell to the floor with a resounding thud, followed by the crash of the chairs toppling over and the tankards all hitting the stone. Guanheng looked around in fear of a fight breaking out, but the others in the tavern only laughed uproariously. A few caught sight of Dejun and called out his name in praise.

Dejun turned to Guanheng, face flushed. “Should we go find ourselves a room?” he asked, voice pleasant. “There’s an inn built over the tavern that should have at least one empty.”

“Alright,” said Guanheng, pretending as though he had not seen Dejun upend an entire table onto his friend. He followed the sellsword to the bar to book a single room to share.

The room provided was functional and relatively clean, if not particularly comfortable. Sounds of the tavern on the ground floor below filtered through the flimsy wooden door and floorboards. There were two beds. 

“I’m going to talk to Xuxi and meet Meirong,” said Dejun, busy hunched over unpacking his armor. “She might have some ideas as to what this thing we’re tracking is.” He hesitated, and then said, “It might be better if you stayed out of sight.”

“Absolutely,” said Guanheng, in complete agreement. “It’s lucky your friend didn’t notice anything. He could have taken my head clean off with that sword.”

Dejun giggled. “You could’ve beaten him if he tried.” He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

Guanheng was absolutely certain he was dreaming. 

Dejun left to return to Xuxi and their rowdy bar, while Guanheng spent some time getting used to the room. He had never lived in human buildings, all box-like and packed together. Some dragons claimed castles and lands for their own, but Guanheng had been perfectly content in his cave on the hill. He had never had much ambition or desire.

They spent the night at the inn. Dejun returned to the room after Guanheng had already fallen asleep, and when the dragon awoke in the morning he found the human already up and dressed. Guanheng rubbed his face with rough hands, pushing his long, untamed hair out of his eyes to find Dejun standing before the window, framed by the morning sunlight pouring in behind him, looking like an angel of lore. His hair was a halo around his head.

“Good morning,” said Dejun sweetly. 

Guanheng mumbled an unintelligible reply.

“Xuxi and I went to see Meirong last night,” said Dejun. “She found traces of shadow energy on the major road heading north east out of Menhjing. I believe the creature—man or beast—left last night. And if we’re right and he’s exhausted whatever energy has been driving him so far, then he’ll be traveling on the road…”

He went to fetch the map. Guanheng sat upright, sheets askew about him, still struggling to keep his messy hair out of his face. Dejun returned in seconds and unrolled the worn map on Guanheng’s bed in front of him. After a moment’s hesitation, he sat too.

“North east,” he said, finger landing on the dot signifying Menhjing and moving along a line. “It’s a major thoroughfare. He’ll be heading to—” Dejun looked up at Guanheng. “Ahraun.”

“Alright,” said Guanheng. “What’s wrong with Ahraun?”

Dejun hesitated, and at once trepidation filled Guanheng. Dejun never hesitated. The man was fearless, not having a second thought even before running to face the shadowy wolf beast.

“Guanheng,” said Dejun, and the name sounded so sweet on his lips, like honeyed nectar. “Will you come with me to Ahraun?”

Guanheng would have followed Dejun to all seven hells and back if he called his name so prettily. He nodded.

“I’m glad,” said Dejun, releasing a breath, and he smiled. “I thought you might be unwilling, because a dragon lives there…”

“A dragon?” Guanheng frowned. “What dragon?”

“Ten,” said Dejun. 

Guanheng sucked in a breath. “No.”

“He hasn’t caused any trouble in over twenty years,” said Dejun quickly, while Guanheng shook his head. No, no, no. “He won’t harm you.”

“Trespassing is a serious transgression among dragons,” said Guanheng. “And you want me to trespass into Ten’s territory? _Ten_? If you wanted to kill me you could have done it cleanly with your sword!”

“He won’t even know we’re there,” said Dejun. “We will be in his city as guests, and he values guestright. He won’t hurt a guest.”

“He’s Ten,” hissed Guanheng. “The Carnelian Terror. The Slayer. He killed seven dragons in nine years!”

“Twenty years ago—”

“He killed Suyin the White!” Guanheng waved his arms around. “She was near a millennium old, Dejun! Her skull was said to be bigger than a damned building. Do you know how big my skull is? Not that big! Not anywhere near that big—”

Dejun grabbed Guanheng’s hands and held them tight. “That was decades ago,” he said. “Ten hasn’t killed a dragon since.”

“Who’s to say he won’t start again?” demanded Guanheng. 

Dragons rarely sought trouble with others of their kind, preferring to live separate and behaving as though none others walked the plane. Ten was something different. Over thirty years ago the red dragon had started on a near decade-long crusade, actively seeking other dragons for the sole purpose of slaughtering them. Seven were the named dragons he had killed; countless others had fallen to his teeth and claws, too young and weak for their names to be known. Some news was so grisly it reached even Guanheng in the isolation of his cave.

“He was undoubtedly killing them for a purpose,” said Dejun. “Some mages target dragons as energy sources for spells. Maybe he was doing the same.”

“What spell would be beyond the strength of his own draconic core?” asked Guanheng. “Don’t go there, Dejun. He is dangerous.”

Dejun looked down, chewing his lower lip. “You do not need to come with me,” he said finally. “You can stay here. I’ll send word back of where I will go after Ahraun, and we will reunite there.”

“Have you lost all sense?” demanded Guanheng. “I will not let you near that madman alone!”

“You do not need to—”

“Do not try and argue with me,” said Guanheng, shaking his head. “You won’t go into dangerous situations alone any longer. If you are going to Ahraun, I am too.”

Dejun stared at Guanheng, wide-eyed, and slowly nodded.

He looked down at his lap, and Guanheng followed his gaze to their hands. They were linked together. Hurriedly Dejun let go, snatching his hands away and against his chest. He jumped off the bed, stumbling as his foot caught in one of the sheets. His face was cherry red. 

“We’ll set off later in the day,” said Dejun, very pointedly not looking at Guanheng. “Do you know how to ride a horse?”

Guanheng was so captivated he lied “Of course,” without a second thought.

Unfortunately, riding was more difficult than the dragon had hoped. The horse was skittish underneath him, due to either his draconic energy or his nerves affecting the animal’s, and it took all Dejun’s skill to calm it down to a manageable level. For the first half day they moved at a slow, torturous pace, Dejun taking constant care to make sure Guanheng did not fall off. When they reached the first inn on the road with stables, Dejun sold his horse and moved his pack and bags to Guanheng’s.

“I can walk,” said Guanheng, feeling utterly guilty. 

“That will only slow us down,” said Dejun. 

Before Guanheng could protest further, Dejun put his foot in the stirrup and got on Guanheng’s horse behind him.

A squeak escaped Guanheng’s lips as Dejun reached around him to take hold of the reins. He could feel the heat radiating from the human behind him. Dejun’s slender arms bracketed him neatly.

“This is alright?” Dejun’s words made the hood of the cloak tremble. His lips undoubtedly touched the fabric.

“Yes,” said Guanheng on a breath. 

They continued the rest of the journey at a steady pace. When they stopped for the night at another roadside inn, Guanheng was saddle sore and his muscles ached, but his heart was light. 

On horseback the journey from Menhjing to Ahraun took over two days. Guanheng watched the great outcropping of rock in the distance grow ever larger, until they were close enough for him to see the castle built into its face, looking like a deity over the city grown around the hill.

The geography of the land looked wrong. A tower of rock with sheer cliffs on nearly all sides loomed, bursting from the flat plain like an ancient god seeking freedom. It was utterly unlike the gentle hill Guanheng’s own cave was built into. He mentioned as much to Dejun as they approached the city, seeking any distraction against the urge to lean his back against Dejun’s chest.

“A relic from the Ages of Sorcery,” said Dejun. “Mages battled here. They say if you dig down to the center of the rock you can find the bones of one of the greatest mages who ever lived.”

The city of Ahraun was organized, with streets of paved cobbles between buildings all built in white and red. Guanheng saw more carts on the streets than he had seen in Menhjing, more buildings with multiple floors until it looked as though they might topple over. The stalls lining the marketplace square were well-kept and sturdy. Hardly anyone on the busy streets spared them a glance, and most of the humans looked busy and healthy, calling out their wares, attending to their customers, going about their business. They appeared content and happy.

This was a human city under the rule of a dragon. 

Dejun found an inn in quick time, and after settling their horse and stowing their bags they returned to the bar on the ground floor to ask about any news. 

“Li Zheng’s store was destroyed a few days ago,” said the barkeep, a young woman wearing her hair in tight curls. “All his goods completely tossed about. We thought maybe he angered the dragon, but Ten hasn’t come down in weeks. He’s been sending his servants for errands.”

“What kind of goods does Li Zheng keep?” asked Dejun.

“Ingredients for spells.” 

Guanheng and Dejun went to examine Li Zheng’s shop. The store was located near the eastern limits of the city, right by the base of the jagged rock cliff. Guanheng could feel the castle staring down at him ever more intensely with every step he took. The cloak was no cover from those red eyes.

The wooden storefront of Li Zheng’s was in wreckage. The inside of the store had been cleared out for the most part, only shards of broken glass and vials scattered across the floor. The wooden furniture was smashed to pieces. The pungent stench of a mix of herbs and chemicals assaulted Guanheng’s senses, and he was forced to cover his nose and mouth with his cloak. Lingering remnants of dark shadow sorcery swirled in the corners of the shop.

“It’s definitely a mage then,” said Dejun. “He wanted something from here. We must talk to Li Zheng and find out what was taken. I might be able to work out what spell the mage is attempting.”

Guanheng opened his mouth to speak when he felt it. A wave of energy so powerful it reverberated in his ribcage, clutching at him from the inside. 

Draconic energy.

“Dejun,” he gasped out, reaching for him as he stumbled. “Dejun, he—”

In an instant Dejun was by Guanheng’s side, supporting him with a steady touch. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice tainted with worry. His other hand found Guanheng’s and took it, squeezing. “What happened?”

As abruptly as the wave had hit it subsided, and Guanheng stood now on trembling legs, trying to regain his strength and composure. He swallowed. “He felt me,” he said. “He knows of our arrival.”

“He felt you?” Dejun’s fingers tightened. “Who? Who—” He stopped. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed. “Ten?”

Guanheng nodded.

“What do we do now?” asked Dejun. His free hand settled on the hilt of his sword. “Run?”

“No,” said Guanheng. “He wants to see me.” 

He had understood the meaning of that power. Ten could have released the force of his core enough to tear through Guanheng where he stood. Instead he had let slip only a sliver of it. There was curiosity in that wisp of energy, a question imbued through it. Ten wanted to know about the dragon that dared enter his city.

Guanheng could not run, no more than a worm could run from a man. 

For some time Dejun was silent, still by Guanheng’s side. “Alright,” he said finally. “Then we’ll see him.”

“He has no interest in you,” said Guanheng, straightening. 

“Regardless,” said Dejun. “I will not let you face him alone.”

Guanheng smiled weakly. “You will not let me die alone, you mean.”

“He only wants to speak with you,” said Dejun, but his grip on the sword tightened. 

They left the store and approached the great stone crag in which the castle had been built centuries ago, circling it until they found somewhere there were no eyes on them. A king had lived in that ancient stone keep once, until a dragon had stormed in and put him and his family to fire and claw and claimed his home for his own. It was this dragon that now summoned Guanheng. 

“You do not have to do this,” he said once more, uselessly. 

“Guanheng,” said Dejun, turning to him with warm brown eyes tempered with intent. “You came with me here. I will go with you to face the Slayer.” He looked away and muttered, “Stop trying to convince me when you put yourself at risk for me.”

Guanheng had no response to that. 

Dejun cleared his throat to dispel the awkwardness. He craned his neck to look up the sheer rock face and asked, “Where is the path? It will take hours to ascend this.”

“I can fly,” said Guanheng. His draconic core would power the flight, and he could control it just as well in this form. He held out both arms. 

Warily Dejun looked him up and down. “What?”

“I will carry you up,” said Guanheng. 

“There is no need,” said Dejun, at once backing away. “I will find a path and climb up myself.”

“I have no desire to wait for you at the top until nightfall,” said Guanheng. He shook his arms once. 

Dejun regarded him with hard eyes as he seemingly considered his options. “I will climb on your back,” he said finally.

In reply, Guanheng turned around so that Dejun could see the spiny ridge of the scales down the center of his back outlined through the material of the cloak. 

A few more tense seconds of silence passed before Dejun cried, “Fine!” with his face crimson. 

Guanheng’s heart pattered as the sellsword awkwardly climbed into his arms. He was as light as a songbird. Guanheng could easily collect Dejun and hold him against his chest if he so wished, one arm under his back, the other hooked behind his knees. He was the perfect size for Guanheng to carry.

Guanheng sent a silent word of thanks to Ten. 

“Hold on tight,” he said, and felt his heartbeat kick as Dejun did as asked, hand fisting into the material at his chest.

Slowly, Guanheng tapped into his core of energy and let it entwine around him, molding it to the purpose he required. Like smoke from a blaze he rose into the sky.

An ungentle curse slipped from Dejun’s mouth, and he curled closer into Guanheng, burying his face into his chest. Guanheng fought to remain calm. He was certain Dejun would be able to hear his heart hammering in his chest like this. 

“You should look around,” he said, hoping to disguise the sound. “It’s not often a human gets to fly.”

“I’d rather not,” said Dejun, voice tight. “Just—tell me when we get there. And don’t drop me. Please.”

Instinctively Guanheng held Dejun closer. He felt the tremble go through the human’s body, the way his iron grip on his shirt tightened even more.

It seemed Dejun did have a fear after all. 

“How did you meet Xuxi?” asked Guanheng.

Dejun made a soft noise of confusion.

“It looks as though you’ve been friends a long time,” said Guanheng.

“Eight years,” said Dejun. “We were the two youngest swords in the tavern. He approached me asking if I wanted to join him on a job.”

He sounded less fearful than before. Guanheng sought to keep the mindless conversation going. “What was the job?”

For some time Dejun told Guanheng of his first work as a sellsword, rewards and bounties, missions that had gone well and others he had failed. Guanheng half listened, punctuating his tales with a few hums as he concentrated on taking them upwards at a steady pace.

They were nearing the top when he glanced down and saw Dejun’s fingers crossed with red. “You have cuts on your hands,” said Guanheng. “How did you get those?”

Dejun shifted in his arms. “Your claws.”

It took Guanheng a few moments to understand. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize—I’ll be sure to never do that again—”

“No.” Dejun’s voice was small. “It—they’re worth it.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Guanheng, giddy feeling rising. “What is worth it?”

Dejun groaned and pushed his face harder against his chest. “Can you please not speak? How much farther?”

“Just a little longer,” said Guanheng.

The castle was massive, much larger than any building Guanheng had ever seen up so close. The façade was made of gray stone similar to the hue of the cliff, and appeared to mesh into the rock wall, like the cliff was fighting a war against time trying to reclaim the hewed stone and brick. The doors stood twice the height of a man, and were made of dark wood, almost black. Windows were set deep into the stone walls. A rough gravel path led from the main doors to the sheer drop of the cliff. 

Guanheng landed at the edge of the path as gently as possible. Dejun jumped out of his arms as soon as he did, taking a deep, wheezing breath as his feet hit solid ground. Guanheng kept a gentle hand on his arm to steady him.

“I’m alright,” said Dejun after a minute of heavy breathing. “I’m alright. Let’s see the dragon.”

The doors loomed ahead like giants. Guanheng glanced at Dejun as they approached. The human was not wearing his armor and he looked even smaller than usual, all narrow frame and fragile bones. The longsword at his belt looked out of place. Still he approached the doors without a shred of hesitation.

“Please be careful,” said Guanheng, struck by the sudden fear that Dejun’s boldness would be the end of him. “Ten is—he is not like me. He is what some might call a traditional dragon.” He hesitated. “Do you know what that means?”

“He sees everyone as objects,” said Dejun. “Humans are either annoyances to be eliminated, useful tools, or not worth acknowledging. No one is equal to him. No one has any feelings for him to bother himself with. He has no empathy.” 

“Then you know,” said Guanheng. Dejun’s flat description upset him for some reason.

“I know,” said Dejun. “I used to believe all dragons were like that.”

“Used to?” 

Before Dejun could respond, the doors ahead of them swung inwards and opened soundlessly. The hall beyond was mostly bare stone, harsh, unwelcoming. The walls were devoid of paintings or weavings, no carpet laid on the stone floor. This was a castle made dragon cave. 

A man stood in the doorway. “Welcome,” he said. “My prince has been expecting you.”

Dejun strode forward. Guanheng followed him with trepidation. The man that led them through the barren front hall was undoubtedly human, but filled Guanheng with unease. He looked too comfortable to be in service to a dragon so ruthless even other ancient dragons feared him. 

The manservant led them across the empty hall and down another hallway, similarly devoid of comforts. Finally he took them to a doorway leading to another chamber, this one obscured by light curtains of rich red. “The master awaits you inside,” he said, stepping aside. 

Guanheng swallowed hard and entered.

As soon as he stepped into the room, he saw him. 

He sat in a great chair that looked to be carved of stone. His head was tossed back, one foot perched in the seat, toes of the other skimming the floor. He was loosely clothed. Sheer red fabric of chiffon and muslin and fine lace hung about his body, draped over his shoulder and piled in his lap, only just obscuring the expanse of his naked skin from view. His hair was dark and cut short, his limbs slender and lithe. His skin glimmered pearlescent red under the firelight. 

The Slayer, the killer of dragons. The Carnelian Terror. 

Ten. 

He watched Guanheng and Dejun, cat-like amber eyes glowing in a lovely face. There was no anger in his features, but a sort of amused curiosity that Guanheng found even more difficult to bear. The force of Ten’s person was so powerful Guanheng nearly did not notice the room he lounged in.

It was filled with bones. Skulls of varying size sat on the tables set around the room. The curve of a great white dome five feet tall was half-hidden behind the imposing chair, but the eye sockets were visible, an obvious sign as to its identity. By Ten’s slender foot was a skull many times larger than a wolf’s, lower jaw shattered to pieces, fangs still set into the top half.

Dragon bones. 

Fear gripped Guanheng’s chest. The remains of at least a dozen dragons filled this room alone. Their killer sat before him.

“An unexpected visitor to my city,” said Ten, and his voice was honey smooth. “Please, sit.”

Guanheng now noticed the chairs set before the great throne. Slowly he made his way to one of them. He noticed Dejun moved just as careful as he did, unbuckling his sword belt and laying the scabbard over his knees. The room had no windows, and the air was hot and still, more suffocating the further Guanheng entered the room and neared Ten.

“You,” said Ten, looking past Guanheng to the door. “Get some refreshments. I do not often receive a fellow worm as a guest.”

“I apologize,” said Guanheng at once. The words slipped out unbidden, and now that the seal had been broken he could not stop. “I did not mean to offend or disrespect you. I never wanted to draw your attention. I had other business in the city, I have no enmity with you—”

Ten laughed. 

The sound ran off the stone walls. Guanheng shrank back into the chair. He looked to Dejun for comfort, and the human held his gaze with warm brown eyes. 

“How could you have enmity with me?” asked Ten. “I don’t even know your name, hatchling.”

Guanheng motioned to the skull sitting on the table beside him. “Did you know their name?”

A smile split Ten’s face. “Oh, I like you,” he said. “Bold, aren’t you?”

“Stupid, rather,” said Guanheng with a weak laugh. 

“Mmm, I can see that,” said Ten, smiling with predatory amusement. 

He paused as the manservant returned with a tray of fragrant tea and rice cakes. The man did not leave after setting down the tray, however, instead taking up position behind Ten’s chair. 

“So what is this business you have in my city?” asked Ten. 

“We are on the trail of a mage,” said Dejun. “We think he came to your city. He is likely human, but can take the form of a wolf beast. He uses shadow sorcery.”

Ten slowly turned to face Dejun. Guanheng felt a sudden surge of the instinct to protect, immediately forced down by a wave of renewed energy radiating from the older dragon. It filled his insides with a buzzing so nauseating that he found himself unable to think straight, paralyzed in his seat.

“That is an interesting sword,” said Ten, not heeding Dejun’s explanation. “What is such a pretty little boy doing with atherite, I wonder.”

“I am a mercenary,” said Dejun. His gaze flicked to Guanheng and back in concern. “I was hired to track down this mage and kill him.”

“And you picked up a little dragon along the way,” said Ten. He glanced at Guanheng, and Guanheng slid further down his seat at the fresh assault of draconic power.

“We are allies now,” said Dejun. His voice was steady, an obvious sign that he could not feel Ten’s energy core burst. “We don’t need anything from you. We only ask that you let us go.”

Ten hummed. “I’m fascinated,” he said. “You pursue a quarry you only _think_ is human.”

“Humans don’t often have the skill to use shadow aspected energy,” said the manservant.

Guanheng froze. The human had spoken without being addressed, without permission. He waited for Ten’s outburst at having their conversation interrupted. Dragons were mercurial by nature, and quick to anger. He did not dare imagine what punishment the violent dragon thought fit for speaking out of turn. 

“But it’s possible?” asked Ten. He didn’t bother turning his head.

“It’s possible,” said the servant.

Guanheng watched this interaction with his mouth open. 

“How do you know he’s here?” asked Ten, now to Dejun.

“We found traces of shadow energy in a spell ingredient shop he ransacked,” said Dejun. “We’ve followed him for over a fortnight from a village to the south west where he had been abducting people. He tore a man to pieces in his wolf body right before our eyes. He might do the same here.”

“Not my concern,” said Ten dismissively. “What shop did he ransack?”

The manservant answered for Dejun. “Li Zheng’s,” he said. “He makes that incense you like.”

Ten sat up straight in his chair. “What? My incense?”

“Yes, my prince,” said the servant, and if Guanheng did not know any better he thought he could detect amusement in the man’s face.

“This cannot go unanswered,” said Ten hotly. The chiffon slipped off his shoulder, exposing more of his shimmering red hued skin. 

“Then perhaps we can be of service to you,” said Guanheng, forcing his gaze away from Ten’s bare chest. The older dragon obviously cared little for modesty. “If you release us, we can find the one who did this and make him pay for his insult.”

“Of course, I had little interest in killing you,” said Ten, hardly listening. “Will I still get my incense this week?” He got up on his knees and turned to look at his servant, slipping out of his web of cloth with the motion. 

Guanheng stared, frozen solid from the view before his eyes, before he remembered himself and hurriedly turned away. He found himself locking gazes with a glaring Dejun. The force of his stare had Guanheng shrinking back into his seat, regretting his every decision. 

“Of course, my prince,” said the servant calmly. “I spoke with Li Zheng. Some sticks were broken, but none stolen.”

“Do you know what was taken?” Dejun finally removed his gaze from Guanheng, and Guanheng could breathe once more. “The mage was probably looking for spell ingredients.”

“Amber, vohlenite ore, the herb of deathless sleep, among others,” said the servant as Ten settled back in his seat. Blessedly, the dragon pulled the sheer red fabric back into his lap. 

Dejun’s brow furrowed as he repeated the list under his breath. “Vohlenite is rare,” he murmured. “It’s not often used. The ore, not the refined metal?” 

“The ore,” said the manservant. “The impurities improve the binding properties with the rock, advantageous if one is a skilled enough mage to work it. You are well-versed in sorcery?”

“Not very,” said Dejun distractedly. 

The manservant smiled with a slow nod. Still fighting the effects of Ten’s energy, Guanheng sat slumped in his chair, eyes on the human. There was something about the man he did not feel comfortable with. 

Feeling the weight of Guanheng’s gaze, the servant looked at him, their eyes meeting. The human smiled gently.

His eyes flashed vivid electric blue.

Guanheng started. The man smiled only wider at that, expression still gentle. Guanheng kept his eyes on him, waiting for anything more. He had not felt any spike in energy, but the piercing blue gaze that had revealed itself for only a fraction of a second could be nothing but magical—

“Dragon.”

Ten’s soft voice ripped Guanheng out of his thoughts and back to the present. “Hmm?” 

Ten’s eyes were on him, hooded and glowing gold. “Keep your gaze to yourself,” said the red dragon quietly. “You dare covet my things in my presence?”

Fear snaked up Guanheng and wrapped its claws around his throat. “No,” he said quickly. “No, I did not—I do not want him—”

Ten tilted his head. 

The pit in Guanheng’s gut only grew. “I am sorry,” he said. The squeeze at his throat was more than fear now, it was the intensity of Ten’s fiery red core spilling out of him. “I should not have—it was wrong of me—”

“Release him,” said Dejun. 

“Take your hand off that sword if you wish to keep it,” said Ten, eyes never leaving Guanheng. “Or attack me, if you are willing to die for this dragon. Never let it be said I did not give you a choice.”

Dejun was silent. Guanheng could not turn his head to see the expression on the human’s face.

“I could rip your core from your body with two fingers,” said Ten conversationally. “I have done worse for less. You should have known better than to desire something that belongs to me.”

Guanheng turned his gaze to the servant, a silent plea for help. The man stared back impassive.

“Release him,” said Dejun again.

“Just as bold as your friend,” said Ten, humorless smile spreading on his face. “You know what I am. You should also know I could tear you open from the inside out without leaving this chair.”

“I know,” said Dejun, and Guanheng heard the soft sound of the sword being pulled from the scabbard. 

The air was still, tight with tension. And then something flickered over Ten’s face, an expression gone too quick for Guanheng to read. The red dragon smiled wider.

The pressure left Guanheng’s neck. He gasped in a heavy breath, falling limp in his chair. He gripped his chest, half fearful his thudding heart would break free of his ribcage. The imposing presence of Ten’s core remained, but settled, an undercurrent that only stirred nausea in Guanheng’s gut and tugged at the edges of his brain. 

“The pair of you are very interesting,” said Ten. “A mercenary ready to throw his life aside for a dragon. A dragon on the leash of a human. Absolutely fascinating.”

Guanheng could not speak, chest heaving. He saw Dejun slowly sheathe his sword. The sellsword’s sharp gaze remained fixed on the ancient dragon.

“I will allow this transgression, just once,” said Ten. He leaned back in his chair, raised one bare leg to the seat. “I suggest you leave before I change my mind.”

Guanheng got to his feet. He stumbled, vertigo hitting like a club to the face, and would have toppled over if not for Dejun holding him up. He caught sight of Ten’s chillingly pleasant smile as he looked up at him.

“Farewell,” said Ten.

“Thank you,” said Dejun. Guanheng couldn’t speak. 

The walk out was slow. Guanheng fought the instinct to take Dejun’s hand as the petite man supported him to the massive front double doors leading out of the castle. The manservant showed them to the threshold.

“I suggest you leave before noon tomorrow,” he said, voice pleasant. “The master will not likely remember your existence before then.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” asked Dejun. “We have no idea which direction this mage is headed.”

“He won’t stay in Ahraun, not with my prince here,” said the servant. “He dared reveal his energy in a city ruled by a dragon because he has no choice. He is not going anywhere where he will find the ingredients he requires. He fled this direction for a reason, so he will not turn back the way he came from. You can figure the remainder out.”

Dejun watched the man with no small amount of suspicion. “Thank you for your insight,” he said carefully. 

The servant smiled, eyes a warm dark brown. “It is nothing.”

Guanheng peered at him carefully. The man appeared perfectly normal. Handsome, even, looking to be in his mid thirties and with dark hair and deep dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. And yet Guanheng knew that could not be the entire truth. He had plainly seen the lightning take the man’s eyes for a split second.

“How long have you been in Ten’s service?” asked Guanheng as he and Dejun exited the castle.

“Thirty-five years,” said the servant. 

Guanheng frowned. “That’s impossible,” he said. “You’re much too young. Not unless you are that much older than you look—”

The man smiled, cheeks dimpling, and the doors swung shut.

Once again in the blessed fresh air, Guanheng noticed the sun stretching out her embrace to the horizon. Sunset was fast approaching. 

“Well,” he said. He turned to Dejun with a bright smile. “We both live.”

Dejun blinked at him, and then burst into relieved laughter. “Yes,” he said. “I told you he only wanted to talk to you.”

“He did nearly kill me in the middle,” said Guanheng, grinning. “Though I suppose I should have expected as much, looking too closely at his human.” 

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” asked Dejun. “Thirty-five years.”

“That’s impossible with his age,” said Guanheng.

“If that is his true age,” said Dejun. “I’ve heard of spells that stop ageing. They require enormous amounts of magical power, though, more than any mage would be able to collect or control. Not even Ten would have the energy for it.”

Guanheng thought of Ten’s crusade to find and kill all those dragons decades ago. He wondered what had become of all those dragons’ magical cores. 

He shook his head free of the thought. It did not matter. What mattered was that he and Dejun were both still alive, still together, still on the trail of a mage they would hopefully never find and face. 

Guanheng held his arms out.

Dejun stared at him a moment before he realized with a start what he wanted. “No,” he said. In the light of the setting sun his face was an ethereal blush. “We have time. We can climb down.”

“We should save time, as we’ll have to leave soon,” said Guanheng. He shook his arms once.

To his surprise, Dejun gave in with no further protests. He put his arm around Guanheng’s neck, allowed him to hook his forearm behind his knees and pull him off the ground. He rested his forehead against the column of Guanheng’s neck. 

“Alright?” asked Dejun in a low voice.

Guanheng nodded.

As they slowly descended through the air, the sellsword’s arms around him, the dragon was more certain than ever that he was dreaming.


	3. Black Sapphire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragon and the human face their enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to come out much, much earlier. Thank you for all your patience, and i hope you'll like the final chapter of _jadesteel_ ♡
> 
> Some blood and violence in this chapter. Take care and please let me know if it warrants a tagged warning or higher rating!

They traveled south east, two on one horse. The human sat behind and held the reins. The dragon tried not to lean back into the warmth of the arms on either side. 

It had been nearly a week since they had left Ahraun. In that time Dejun had scarcely rested, keeping the horse moving at a steady pace during the day, nose buried in a book at night. Guanheng was not much help. There was no shadow energy trail to follow, and with no need for neither his sorcery detection senses nor his energy core, the dragon wasn’t of much use. 

The landscape was grassland interspersed with dark, flaking, volcanic rock, and the ground underneath the horse’s hooves was hard, more stone than earth. The wild grasses that grew were alien to Guanheng, rough and spiky. There were hardly any trees for cover. The plains rolled ahead and behind, so that while Guanheng had a decently good view of anything on the horizon, he could not put his draconic vision to best use. 

The sun was nearing the crest of the nearest rise when Dejun said, “We’ll stop here for the night.”

Guanheng helped unload the horse and set up camp. The grass was dry and carried flame well, so they had something of a fire to carry them through the night. Dejun sat close to the light and pulled out the book.

He’d bought it just before leaving Ahraun. A spell book, the shopkeeper had said. Guanheng saw nothing magical about it, but Dejun was very interested in it. He had read it half a dozen times over by now, but he still took it out every night and flipped through the pages, even if he did get frustrated and annoyed by the end of it.

“Amber, vohlenite ore, herb of deathless sleep,” muttered Dejun. He repeated the list a hundred times a day like a prayer. “What could he use those three ingredients in one spell for?”

Guanheng inched closer. He wished he could help, but he knew nothing about sorcery. Of the two of them, Dejun was the expert. He watched the human by the light of the small fire, marking the way the light moved across the planes of his face, the way the shadows sat under sharp lines, and Guanheng wasn’t sure he wasn’t under a spell himself. 

“Maybe it’s not for one spell?” said Dejun to himself. “Maybe it’s for three different ones? Then we have no way of guessing.”

“What are they usually used for?” asked Guanheng, trying his hardest not to lose himself in the little line between Dejun’s thick eyebrows as the sellsword frowned.

“Amber is a base of many spells,” said Dejun. “The herb is like a poison; it slows your heart and body processes until you could be mistaken for death, but you can be brought out of it with other herbs. Vohlenite is a binding ingredient.”

Guanheng nodded in awe. Dejun was so intelligent.

“But I don’t know why he would need both vohlenite and amber,” continued Dejun, frowning even more. “Amber binds energies, there’s no need for vohlenite. Vohlenite is more difficult to work with too, the ore particularly, though the impurities improve its properties. Did he take it by accident? It doesn’t seem likely.”

“We don’t know how smart this creature is,” said Guanheng. “Maybe he did take it without thinking, or it got swept up in the chaos.”

“It was smart enough to find a shop of spell ingredients,” said Dejun. “No one keeps much vohlenite because few mages use it, and it wouldn’t have been out in the open either.” He shook his head. “No, he knew what he was looking for, and he got it. The question is, why?”

Guanheng watched Dejun rub his chin as he thought. “You know a lot about sorcery,” he said.

“Not a lot,” said Dejun, opening the book again. “Not enough to figure this out.”

“A lot,” insisted Guanheng. “You’re not even a mage.”

“I was born without the ability to make the spells work,” said Dejun. “Even if I know all the ingredients and the theories.”

“Why did you learn all this?” asked Guanheng. 

The corner of Dejun’s mouth twitched. And then he said, so quietly Guanheng almost missed it, “I was trying to be enough.”

Guanheng was uncertain he had heard right. Enough? For what? What could be out there that Dejun wasn’t enough for? 

Before he could ask, Dejun cleared his throat and in a normal voice said, “It seemed sensible. My line of work means I cross paths with a lot of sorcery, and a lot of mages. Not all of them are friendly.” He reached up to twist a lock of his beautiful silver hair.

“What happened to your hair?” asked Guanheng before he could stop.

Dejun turned to him, surprised by the sudden question. “What?”

“Your hair,” said Guanheng. “You touch it when you speak of sorcery. You did it when we were talking to Xuxi too.”

“I don’t…” Dejun was genuinely stunned. “I didn’t know that. I really do that?”

Guanheng nodded.

“And you noticed,” said Dejun.

Guanheng nodded again. 

“Well…” Dejun looked suddenly embarrassed, or maybe a little flustered, Guanheng wanted to believe. It was hard to tell in the campfire light but Guanheng wanted to believe the pretty mercenary was blushing. 

“Well,” said Dejun again. “Well, um, yes. My hair is like this because of sorcery.”

“You changed your hair with sorcery?” Guanheng was surprised. Dejun seemed unlike the type. 

“Not me, and it was a side effect, not the main purpose of the spell,” said Dejun.

“What was the main purpose?” asked Guanheng.

“Someone was trying to kill me,” said Dejun simply.

Guanheng was not truly surprised, but his gut still twisted with a mix of emotions. Worry, mostly, with a little bit of anger. Someone had tried to hurt Dejun. They had gotten pretty damned close too, if they managed to change his body, even if it was just his hair. 

“What happened?” he asked.

“Some mage had taken up in a petty lord’s castle,” said Dejun. “The man hired us to take back his castle and deliver her head. We cut all the way up to the top where the mage made her study. Like a fool, I threw the door open without checking.” He smiled tightly. “It was not a good decision.”

Guanheng leaned forward, interested in a strange, dreading way.

“She had set some kind of trap to go off when the door opened,” continued Dejun. “It hit me from right above. Leached all the color off my head.” He laughed and ruffled his moonlight hair.

“That was it?” asked Guanheng. “She just—dyed your hair?”

“No, I also felt like I was being eaten alive and set on fire at the same time,” said Dejun conversationally. “The pain went away eventually, but the color never came back.” He sighed, perhaps a little too dramatically. 

Guanheng thought it over for a second. “How long?” he asked.

“How long for what?” asked Dejun.

“For the pain to go away,” said Guanheng.

Dejun blinked at him, and then he forced out an awkward laugh. “That’s not what people usually ask when I tell this story,” he said. 

“Well, I’m not really _people_ ,” said Guanheng, flashing a quick smile. 

“Right,” said Dejun with an awkward chuckle. He paused, then said, “If you really want to know, the worst of it was over in a few minutes. But I ached and couldn’t ride for over a month. I got flashes of it for a year afterwards, too, just a couple of seconds at a time.”

Guanheng’s heart tightened in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Dejun shrugged. “It’s fine.”

It was not, but Guanheng could not explain why. Instead he asked, “What happened to the mage?”

“Dead,” said Dejun. “We were two swords on the job. My companion killed her.”

“Xuxi?” asked Guanheng.

Dejun’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “No,” he said shortly.

Guanheng was used to speaking without a second thought, but this time something held his tongue. Dejun did not want to talk about him. For some reason, Guanheng did not want to hear about him either.

He went to sleep soon after. Dejun took first watch. Usually they would go back and forth about who took first watch, argue in a way that left both of them grinning, but this time Dejun volunteered and Guanheng could see he was not in the mood to be argued with. So Guanheng said good night and curled up in his bedding and tried to sleep, and hoped the next day he would learn to use his words better.

Just as he was drifting off, he thought he felt a gentle touch on the scales of his cheekbone, but it was likely only a dream.

The day was bright and clear, with few clouds in the sky and a gentle breeze tugging along the ground. Dejun handled the reins while Guanheng scanned their surroundings. The gentle slopes of the landscape continued, but the further south the road curved the more harsh it became, less grass, more hard rock. He could see chips of stone slide under the horse’s hooves. It made the going more difficult, and Guanheng would have suggested they take the horse off track except it was even worse on the sparse grass and thicker, flaking rock. The only consolation was that their quarry would be moving slow as well.

It was nearing a week now and Guanheng still had not gotten one glimpse of this supposed mage they were chasing. He fully trusted Dejun’s decision to head south east out of Ahraun, but as the days dragged on he could not help but feel whatever creature they were chasing had outpaced them, and significantly so. If he was being honest, he was glad for it. Guanheng had seen the thing outside the village by his cave, and he was not confident they could escape a fight with it unscathed.

Some time after the sun had left her peak in the sky, Guanheng ventured, “Dejun, are you sure we’ll be able to get this sorcerer?”

“I’m sure he went this way,” said Dejun. “He had to. He would not have gone all the way east to Ahraun just to double back west, and if he was heading north he could have gone straight to Meizuishan instead of risking going to Ten’s territory. There’s nothing south except wasteland heading to the cape. No place to get spell supplies, hardly anything more than scattered villages. He has to be heading this direction.”

“I know that,” said Guanheng. Dejun had explained his reasoning before. “I know you’re right, I trust you. I’m just wondering if we’ll be able to catch up to him.”

For some time Dejun did not respond. Guanheng thought of rephrasing the question less bluntly, but before he could, the sellsword said, “We will. No shadow energy traces, right? He’s not traveling in that beastlike form. He should not be much faster than us.”

“We haven’t gotten a glimpse of him in a week,” said Guanheng. “He must be at least that much faster.”

“He has to be on horseback,” said Dejun. “It makes him faster, but it also means he can’t leave the road. We’re riding two to a horse which is slowing us down, but we’ll catch up to him eventually, if not on the road then when he stops at a settlement.”

That made sense. “Do you want me to get off the horse?” asked Guanheng. “I can follow alongside in my second form.” He did not want to, not when it meant leaving the space between Dejun’s arms, but he would if the sellsword asked. 

“Your core will emit draconic energy when you change,” said Dejun. “I don’t want him to know how close we are.”

Guanheng nodded. They traveled along in silence for a while, but Guanheng’s thoughts were uneasy. He could not help but think of the way Dejun had fallen silent when he had told him he was uncertain they would catch up. Could Dejun guess Guanheng did not want to catch up at all? Finding this beastly shadow mage would mean danger, but more importantly it would mean the end of Guanheng’s time with Dejun, and Guanheng couldn’t remember ever wanting anything less. 

“Dejun,” he said without thinking.

“Guanheng?” 

He said Guanheng’s name so sweetly, so prettily. Guanheng couldn’t imagine not hearing it for the rest of his life. 

He must have been lost in thought for too long, for Dejun again said, rather concerned this time, “Guanheng?”

The dragon swallowed. It was too early for such thoughts. “I wanted to thank you,” he said. 

“For what?” Dejun sounded surprised.

“When we met Ten and I angered him,” said Guanheng. “You were ready to defend me, even if it meant your life. Thank you.”

“There’s no need for gratitude,” said Dejun. “Of course I would have defended you. I would have fought him, and worse things, if it kept you from harm.”

Guanheng clasped his clawed, scaled hands before him and nodded. He had no words.

“It’s only right,” said Dejun quickly, as though he’d only just realized what he’d said. His tone was high and quick, betraying his fluster, and it made Guanheng more than ever want to lean back against his chest. “We are working together now, we are a team of sorts, and that has meaning. You are my… my companion, my partner on this job.”

“Was Yangyang your companion too?” asked Guanheng.

As soon as the words left his lips he knew he had spoken wrong. He wished more than anything he could reach out and snatch the words from the air, but it was too late. He fumbled out an apology, a hasty retraction, when Dejun spoke and stopped him dead.

“No,” he said.

Guanheng closed his mouth that had been open with another half spoken apology.

“We were companions for awhile, yes,” said Dejun. “We took many jobs together. But it was… different with him. He was always ahead of me, and we both knew it. He was a better swordsman, a better archer. A better sellsword. I fought only to put us on equal footing, an endless struggle that brought me skill but not much happiness.”

Dejun had said he had learned the tenets of sorcery to prove himself enough. Guanheng clenched his hands into fists as he finally understood.

“We stopped working together eventually,” continued Dejun. A pause. “I was holding him back. He said he could not fight knowing he had to protect me at the same time.” He snorted with no amusement. “Since then, I have worked alone. No man to hold back, or hold me back. And yet I have always tried to prove myself. It is why I went to face you alone.”

“You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone,” said Guanheng quietly. 

“I know that,” said Dejun. 

“And you are inferior to no one.” 

“I know that too.”

The conversation faltered. Guanheng did not know what to say. He did not know how to tell Dejun that he was incomparable to anyone else, that he had seen it since the day he had trespassed into his cave and held an atherite blade to his neck. 

“I would be thankful if you did not mention him again,” said Dejun, breaking the silence. “I do not want to talk about him. Not with you.” He chuckled. “I don’t know why I even told you all this.”

Guanheng could not understand, not truly, when the extent of his experience with romance was Dejun’s arms on either side of them as they shared a horse, but he could respect Dejun’s wishes. “Why did you want to become a sellsword?” he asked, attempting a change in topic.

“Money,” said Dejun, after a moment’s thought. “Where I was born, there were not many other ways of earning a living. I was lucky to be decent at swordfighting.” 

“You should have been a knight instead,” said Guanheng.

Dejun laughed. “I have no noble blood.”

“No matter,” said Guanheng. “You look like a knight.” He looked like a dream, in truth, but Guanheng could not say that. 

Dejun laughed again, but this one was closer to a giggle, small and sweet. “You’ve seen many knights?”

“You were not the first to enter my cave, seeking to vanquish the beast,” said Guanheng, grinning.

“I am sorry for that,” said Dejun.

Guanheng smiled to himself. “There’s no need for an apology. I am glad.” 

The ride was comfortable the rest of the day, the silence easy. They made camp at night off the road, under the awning of a rocky outcrop. The ground underneath was hard and pointed, but Dejun paid no mind, and with the scales edging Guanheng’s joints he did not much care. As every night before, once their evening meal was complete Dejun took out the book of spells and looked through it. This time, however, Guanheng took up position beside him.

“Dejun, I have been thinking,” he said. 

Dejun closed the book at once to give Guanheng his full attention. “What of?”

“You said that shadow energy is difficult to manage for humans, and two of those spell ingredients are used for binding,” said Guanheng. “Could it be the mage is using them to bind the shadow energy to himself?”

“Sorcery does not work like that,” said Dejun. “The body is a channel for the energy, not a storage. Vohlenite is used to bind ingredients, or enchant objects. Enchanting a human body like that would destroy it. I can’t think of a reason why a mage would do that to themselves.”

“Maybe it is not to themselves,” said Guanheng. 

Dejun opened his mouth and then closed it. “A pair, working together?” he said finally, brow furrowed. 

Guanheng had not thought so far ahead, but the idea made sense. 

“The amount of energy is immense,” said Dejun, shaking his head. “Doing that to a human would ruin their body…”

“That’s why they did it to someone else, not themselves,” said Guanheng.

Dejun gave him a long look, and Guanheng could see him thinking behind it, parsing the idea through. The sellsword fell silent and turned his gaze back over the fire, brow still furrowed, frown on his face. Guanheng exercised his patience to the limit and waited.

Finally, Dejun spoke. “Then where is the other?” he asked.

“Maybe that is where he’s going,” said Guanheng.

“So we will have not one enemy to face at the end of this journey, but two,” said Dejun.

“If there are two,” said Guanheng. “I could be wrong.”

“Could be, but I doubt it,” said Dejun. “It makes sense. I wondered how a mage would have the skill to work shadow energy like that and still live. But if they’re using it on someone else, and they’re ruthless enough to not care what happens to them…” 

“How long could a human survive under the strain of that energy before they died?” asked Guanheng. 

“Long enough,” said Dejun. He stopped, and then swore in a decidedly unpretty manner. “Longer if their body processes had been slowed down to near death.”

“The herb?” 

“The herb.”

The silence that followed was tense. Guanheng felt uneasy as he watched Dejun in the firelight. He had fought before, but that had been within the walls of his cave, in his domain where he was master and had complete control. He had seen the shadowy beast Dejun had faced outside the village. Whatever mage had created it must be powerful too. How were he and Dejun supposed to defeat them both, when they had barely been enough to face the beast?

After too long, Dejun said, “I think he knows we’re on his trail.”

“Why?” asked Guanheng.

“Call it intuition,” said Dejun. “If he wanted to leave us behind he could’ve changed back to that shadow beast form, run like hell until he’d put enough distance between us, and then slipped back into the human form so we couldn’t track his shadow traces anymore. Why would he be traveling slower now, on horseback, unless he wanted us to catch him?”

He was likely right, and it made Guanheng ever more uneasy. “What do we do then?”

“We stop following,” said Dejun. “Tomorrow we will sit here, and wait. If he wants to face us, he will do it here, in a place of our choosing.”

“Do you think we will be able to defeat them?” asked Guanheng. He knew what kind of answer Dejun, with his supreme boldness and courage, would give, and he wished to hear it from his lips, receive some assurance.

“We will have a better chance here,” said Dejun. “The landscape offers enough cover for someone my size, and there is less to use here for improvised weapons. Better here than wherever he wishes to lead us, straight into some magical ambush.” He twisted a lock of hair between his fingers, before he realized what he was doing and dropped his hand. “Oh, so you were right,” he said, as he turned to Guanheng and smiled, almost shy.

At once it made perfect sense to the dragon why he was willing to risk his life for this human. He nodded. 

Guanheng was roused from sleep late the following morning. He rubbed his eyes to find Dejun leaning over him, moonlight hair tousled, smile on his lovely face. He was wearing his armor. 

“Good morning,” he said sweetly.

Guanheng mumbled an unintelligible reply.

“Eat light,” said Dejun as he straightened. “We don’t know when he will attack.”

Guanheng struggled to sit up, pushing his long hair out of his eyes. “We don’t know he will attack at all,” he said.

Dejun looked down at him, and he cut an imposing figure, heavy plate armor gleaming in the morning sunlight, hair shining bright silver. “He will,” he said.

They ate, packed up camp, and they waited. The sun rose to her peak, and then began her descent towards eventual sunset. The atmosphere was tense, but not stiflingly so; Dejun made conversation with Guanheng occasionally, asking of his time in his cave, how he had lived before. Guanheng was embarrassed to have nothing interesting to say, certainly nothing that could compare to Dejun’s adventures as a mercenary, but the sellsword appeared happy to hear his stories regardless and listened with eagerness. Guanheng could not deny the warm rush of pleasure he got at receiving Dejun’s attention so intently.

The sun was halfway down to the horizon when Guanheng felt it.

Shadow energy, immense amounts of it, approaching rapidly from the south. 

He laid a hand on Dejun’s arm, and at once the sellsword understood. He got to his feet, and as he did, his entire demeanor changed. The sweet, lovely man who had listened to Guanheng’s boring tales with interest was gone, and in his place stood a warrior ready for battle. He had been right; the creature was coming back to face them. Guanheng took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever was to come.

He saw it before Dejun did. A creature wreathed in shadows, a mass of black approaching at inhuman speed. But it was not alone. Beside it was a figure on horseback, riding on the hard road at full gallop, a cloak of white streaming behind their shoulders. Guanheng sucked in a sharp breath. He had been right as well. There were two.

He felt Dejun tense when he saw them, and then the sellsword strode out to face them. Guanheng followed, nerves on edge, heart pounding. 

The creature and rider slowed as they neared, and then stopped. There, as the rider dismounted, Guanheng watched with horrified fascination as the shadow creature changed. It folded in on itself, limbs bending and snapping in ways that should not be possible, until it had halved in size and was not much bigger than the dragon in his third form as he now stood. The shadows around it coalesced and intensified before, like the impossible inverse of a flash of lightning, it vanished. Left behind was a man, young and ordinary in appearance.

Guanheng fought to swallow a hiss. That was no man, he knew, and his every instinct told him to attack before it once more shifted to a form he could not defeat. 

“So you are the two that have been chasing my poor minion.”

The rider. Guanheng had overlooked him, and indeed the man was easy to overlook. He had dark hair and was tall, but had no distinct features, and aside from his height he was bland, forgettable. Guanheng might have killed a dozen copies of him among the knights and sellswords that had trespassed in his cave before Dejun. 

“You make quite an unlikely pair,” continued the man. His gaze fell on Guanheng, and a gleam entered his eye. “A dragon, so young, out of his cave? How rare. How _lucky_.”

Dejun drew his sword but said nothing. 

“I go through humans so quickly,” said the mage, paying Dejun no mind. It seemed as though to him Dejun didn’t even exist. “Humans, you know, their bodies are so weak. Can hardly manage the energy.”

“And what are you, if not human?” asked Guanheng. 

A smile split that plain face. “The first living creature to master shadow magic,” he said. 

“I’ve been hired to kill your companion,” said Dejun. 

For the first time the mage turned his attention to the sellsword. Guanheng’s first instinct was to put himself between them, not allow this man to even let his gaze rest on Dejun, but he kept himself in check. Dejun could handle himself. 

“Is that so?” said the mage, sounding amused. 

Dejun ignored that. “He was acting on your orders?” he asked.

“He has no capacity for thought left,” said the mage. “A side effect of the binding process.” His gaze drifted to Guanheng again, and he smiled. Guanheng bared his teeth at him.

“Then I must kill you as well, to complete the terms of the contract,” said Dejun.

The mage laughed. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked. “You can’t think you can defeat me.” 

“It’s only polite to tell a dying man the reason for his death,” said Dejun plainly. 

“Swordsmen are always too bold,” said the mage. “How is this for an offer? I take the dragon, and that lovely sword you have too, why not? In return you can walk out of this alive.”

Guanheng saw Dejun’s jaw tighten. “This is not a negotiation,” he said.

“Then you’ve chosen your own fate,” said the mage. He tilted his head.

Chaos erupted in the single moment that followed. The man beside broke open, blooming like a horrifying flower of blood and skin, and the shadowed beast emerged once more, claw and fang and darkness. Dejun charged. He was quick, much quicker than should be possible under so much heavy armor, and was within striking distance of the creature before it had completed its transformation.

A horrible screech burst from the creature as Dejun’s first swing caught it in the junction of shoulder and neck. Guanheng clapped his hands over his ears, but he kept his eyes on the thing, watched the blood gush from the wound as Dejun wrenched his sword free. The sellsword swung again, but this time the creature raised a massive black paw to defend itself. The atherite cut deep, and Dejun sliced into the fur, brought his sword down and away before attacking once more with a forward thrust. This one the beast parried, swinging down with another massive paw. Dejun staggered forward and was lost among the shadows.

Guanheng stood where he was. He had no weapon, and no skill at fighting even if he had been armed. All he had was himself. 

He reached inside and released the power of his draconic core.

It spread out in a wave of jade green, Guanheng at the center. As it swept over the shadow wolf beast, the shadows wavered and it stilled, and Guanheng saw an outline of a snout rise to sniff the air. 

Dejun didn’t miss the opportunity. He swung again, and the beast howled in agony as the atherite blade slashed across its front. Blood sprayed from the wound, dotting Dejun’s face. Dejun didn’t stop for a second, attacking again, and again, until the creature was screaming and fighting back, Guanheng forgotten.

“Is that all you can do?” 

The mage strode forward in a storm of white and air crackling with building sorcery. Guanheng could feel the intensity of it, swirling around the man in building clouds of energy, and he stepped back, the force of it almost physical on his face. This mage was powerful, more powerful than any human he had ever faced before. The crushing feeling closing around his ribcage was terrifyingly reminiscent of the power he had experienced in the room of bones with Ten. 

“How sweet,” said the mage, when he was but a few steps from Guanheng, and getting ever closer. “You want to help. But, little dragon, you are very young, and I have amassed enough power to tame even the shadows. You dare face me?” 

“Yes,” said Guanheng, and he changed.

The power of his core enveloped him as he dropped his third form, his humanlike one, and slipped once more into the form he was most comfortable in. Weak limbs were replaced by ones of strong bone, hard muscle and sinew, ending in claws sharp and long enough to tear the guts from a human body. His spine stretched and thickened, and he fell to his four clawed feet as his tail curled out behind. His jaw grew and hardened, his mouth filled with sharp teeth, and when he blinked he no longer saw the few colors the human saw, but all the hues his draconic sight afforded him, air shimmering with ultraviolet and infrared and a thousand others. He snapped his jaws, stretched his back, felt his overlapping scales of snow white and jade ripple over his muscular form. He focused his gaze on the human before him and bared his teeth.

The mage let out a deep breath. “Oh, beautiful,” he said.

Guanheng charged. 

The mage raised his arm and the sorcery in the air burst, forming a solid wall between the two of them. Guanheng ran straight past him and attacked the black wolf creature. 

The shadows that swirled around it were solid, a magical barrier, and Guanheng had to imbue his jaws with the power of his core to break through. He sunk his fangs into the flesh of the beast. The blood that filled his mouth tasted wrong, rotted somehow, and he fought the base instinct to spit his poisoned prey out. Instead Guanheng held on, and slashed at it with his front legs. The flesh split open underneath his claws, and more of its blood poured out, staining his vibrant green scales. 

Within the storm of shadows, Guanheng saw the thing clearly. It was distinctly wolfish in appearance, but wrong somehow, like it had been drawn by a man who had only ever heard stories of wolves but never seen one in truth. Its maw was huge, filled with vicious, jagged teeth of various size. Its front legs were massive and knotted with muscle, much larger than its hindquarters on which it stood—the creature looked unbalanced, far bigger on the top. Its fur was black and tasted bitter on Guanheng’s tongue. Its eyes were too small in its misshapen head. 

Like a knife something stabbed Guanheng. It was _inside_ , deep and low in his throat, and with a cry of pain he released the creature and fell back. He spewed up its blood, claws scrabbling at his scaled neck, feeling it poison him all the way up. When he saw the blood spill to the ground from his jaws, it was tinged black with sorcery.

Guanheng struggled to his feet, but before he could straighten something slammed into his side, sending him crashing to the ground again. His scales had protected him from the worst of it, but he could see the remains of sorcery running across his hide. He turned his head to the mage and growled.

“I don’t want to damage you,” the man called. He raised his hand, and edges of sorcery drifted around his fingers. “Yield.”

Guanheng sensed what happened next before he saw it. A figure flew out from the mass of black, a slender shape of white and silver. Guanheng jumped and twisted, plucking him from the air. His claws scraped against steel. 

Carefully, Guanheng held Dejun to his underbelly and curled his long body around him as a shield. 

“Guanheng?”

The dragon rumbled low in his chest.

“I’m okay.” Dejun’s breathing was ragged, but his voice was steady. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

A bolt of energy shot through the air. Guanheng curled tighter around Dejun, let the attack hit him on the spiny ridge of scales going down his back. They absorbed most of the energy, but the force of it still impacted, and a dull, heavy pain bloomed from the spot.

“The wolf beast is injured,” said Dejun, still panting. “You hurt it badly, and it’s slow now, weakening. A few more blows will be enough to finish it. Release me and I will finish it.”

Guanheng growled a refusal. As if to prove his point, he was hit by another bolt, this one nearer his underside where his scales were weaker. The impact shook Dejun in his hold.

“I know he will continue to attack with sorcery,” said Dejun. He frowned, thinking. “Can you overwhelm him with your own?” he asked finally. “With your energy core?”

Guanheng clicked between his sharp teeth. He didn’t know. He had never used his core in a battle—he had hardly ever used his core at all before he had met Dejun. Would he be able to overpower the mage? 

Dejun made sense of his sounds. “Then you fight the creature, I take the mage,” he said. He cut off Guanheng’s growling protests, saying, “The atherite will keep him from laying any spells on me directly, and he can’t cast any powerful spells so quick. I only need to keep him distracted while you finish the beast.”

Guanheng misliked the plan, and he had no way of communicating just how badly it sat with him. The mage might not be able to ensorcell Dejun directly, but he would still be able to pelt him with bolts of generated energy, as he was doing even now to Guanheng. His scales protected him from the worst of it, but the dragon was growing weaker, and each successive burst hurt more and lingered longer. Dejun was only a man in plain steel armor. 

“Guanheng, release me,” said Dejun. He looked up at the dragon’s face, golden brown eyes gazing straight into jade green, and Guanheng saw no fear in them, no hesitation. “I can do it. We can do it.”

Guanheng had no chance against that gaze. He uncurled his body whiplash-fast, and without a glance back surged towards the stormy black mass. 

The wolf creature screeched, turning its maw directly in Guanheng’s face. The black of its energy had concentrated in its biggest wounds, Guanheng saw, coating the blood red inside with darkness and holding it fast. Guanheng had thought the creature hadn’t attacked all this while because it was too injured to. It had taken its time to begin healing itself.

It lunged.

Its jaws snapped, aiming for Guanheng’s throat. The dragon twisted out of its reach, but not far enough. Pain erupted in one of his front legs. The creature’s teeth sunk into the flesh, deep, until Guanheng could feel the fangs grind against bone. He wrenched himself free, tearing skin and flesh open. He did not stop to inspect the damage. He attacked at once, twisting around to find a blind spot, a weak spot, somewhere he could sink his teeth in for most damage.

It was a furious battle of no skill or grace. The two grappled, bit and clawed. Claws raked Guanheng’s belly, piercing the scale and drawing blood. The beast was fast, its shadows only intensified with its pain. Guanheng found himself releasing more and more of his core to pierce the shield of black, and it was wearing him down. Exhaustion was setting in. His left front leg was useless and streaming blood. The creature had the presence of mind to realize so, and doggedly attacked that side, trying to get around to where he was less defended. Guanheng was quicker, slipping away before it could land a hit that would crush his scaled armor, but before he could attack in return the beast was already back and on guard, snapping its jaws, slashing with its massive paws. Guanheng curled around the blow, over and around. It proved to be an error. Too late he realized he had exposed himself to an attack from above, and the creature did not miss. 

Its jaws closed around Guanheng’s neck, jagged teeth smashing into scales. The dragon was trapped. He struggled to wrench himself free, but the grip on his neck tightened, straining to shut and crush his windpipe. Guanheng could not pull free, not without tearing out his own throat in the process.

He dug the claws of his working front leg into the creature’s face. The shriek of pain it emitted was brutal, but still its grip did not weaken. Guanheng drew his claw back and readied himself to attack again, when his vision focused and he saw the scene before him.

Dejun was hurt. One side of his face was awash in blood, and Guanheng could see it matted in his hair on that side too, white tainted red. His armor was charred black in places. He had lost his left glove, and the fingers of that hand were dripping blood too. He was standing, his stance ready, but though he tried to hide it he was obviously weary. 

A wall of pulsing red and white energy burst around him in a ring. Dejun cut through, atherite steel cleaving the sorcery, but as he broke free edges of the spell caught him, running over his left arm and shoulder. He staggered back, and Guanheng saw pain on his face. The mage was but a few feet away, looking unbothered, amused rather by the sight in front of him. He shot bolts of burning white energy at Dejun, and Dejun jumped and ducked behind a nearby outcrop of rock for cover. The mage continued volleying attacks at the shield, relentless, sending chunks of rock flying from the knoll. Dejun kept his head low as he crouched and waited for an opportunity.

Guanheng struggled, desperate to break free. Dejun needed him. But the wolf creature’s jaw was locked in, and every movement only made its grip tighten, until Guanheng was near choking, dying for air.

The dragon fell still. He had one weapon left.

Guanheng reached into himself and into his draconic core.

Draconic energy poured out in a wave. The creature froze, its jaw loosening around Guanheng’s throat. But it wasn’t enough. The mage was still attacking Dejun, playing with him, hurting him. Guanheng dug deeper, opened more and more, until the energy that powered his form and made up his soul burst forth like the explosion of a star. 

The sorcery that the mage gathered about his feet disappeared, and the man staggered backwards, eyes wide in shock. The wolf beast shrieked with pain and unmistakable terror. It dropped Guanheng as it did so, and the dragon fell heavily to the ground. 

He didn’t even feel the impact. There was nothing left in him to feel. All Guanheng could feel was exhausted. He couldn’t move his limbs, he couldn’t force himself up onto them. He heard the shadow creature shrieking, but Guanheng could not stand up and fight. 

He had released too much of his core at once. There wasn’t enough left to power his body.

He shouldn’t have done it, Guanheng told himself faintly. He shouldn’t have gone with Dejun. He should have kidnapped his pretty human, brought him back to live with him in the safety of his cave. 

Dejun—

He needed Guanheng—

With whatever he had left, Guanheng raised his head. He found the wolf’s snout inches away from his own. The creature shrieked, shadows black like dead space raging around its eyes, and its jaws opened wide to crush Guanheng’s skull.

The point of a sword slammed through the top of its head.

The creature’s pupils blew wide, and then froze. The shadows that swirled about its head vanished.

The sword was wrenched free, bringing forth a gush of dark blood. Guanheng watched, unable to move, as a heavy boot kicked the limp body aside, and then a man fell to his knees by his head.

“Oh, no,” said Dejun, voice cracked and despairing. “No, no, no, no…”

 _No, I’m alright_ , Guanheng wanted to say, but he could only rumble low in his throat. Carefully, so gently, Dejun lifted Guanheng onto his lap. In this form Guanheng could barely fit his head across Dejun’s slender thighs.

“You saved me,” said the sellsword. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

He wrapped his arms about Guanheng’s head and neck and hugged him tight. The dragon did not move in the embrace. Dejun held him like that a long time, bent over unmoving, only his fingers stroking the mane that framed Guanheng’s head. His body ached and he was still too exhausted to move, but Guanheng knew he would live—he was a dragon after all, and dragons were not so easy to kill. Still, he allowed himself a few more minutes of Dejun’s worry. 

His core was slowly replenishing itself, healing as all dragons’ did. When it was just enough, Guanheng sheathed himself in it and shifted out of his second form and into his third. 

The tail disappeared. The elongated snout shrunk, the sharp fangs disappeared, his limbs stretched and weakened. Some of the scales refused to leave his cheekbones and fingers, and the claws and short antler horns were as stubborn as ever, but Guanheng was able to once more take his third form. 

Dejun stared at him, openmouthed. He had released his embrace when Guanheng had begun the shift, but Guanheng’s head remained pillowed on his lap.

Guanheng looked up at him and smiled. “I’m going to be alright,” he said.

“You—your—it was—” Dejun was too stunned to speak.

“I will be fine, Dejun,” said Guanheng. “I only need some to rest and heal.”

“Some time to rest?” demanded Dejun in disbelief. “You’re—Guanheng, you’re bleeding horribly, and your arm is in ribbons. I can see the bone of it.”

“I am a dragon,” said Guanheng. “The first time we met, you put a dagger through my shoulder, if you recall. I was healed before we reached the bottom of the hill.” He offered a smile. 

Dejun looked as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You were too injured to fight,” he said. “That thing would have—if I hadn’t—you cannot tell me you are fine!”

“No, I _will be_ fine,” said Guanheng, grinning. “An entirely different thing.” He was still bone tired, exhaustion seeping deep into the marrow, but seeing Dejun so concerned, laying there with his head in Dejun’s lap, Guanheng felt as though he were floating.

“Guanheng,” said Dejun helplessly. 

“I’m fine, Dejun, I’m fine,” said Guanheng. “I won’t die on you. Trust me. Companions, remember?”

Dejun stared down at him, and then his face twisted like he was going to cry. 

He didn’t cry, however, thank the gods. He brushed the hair from Guanheng’s face with a careful hand, and then cupped his cheek gently, rubbing his thumb over the scales on his cheekbone. “Yeah, okay,” he whispered. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

For some time Guanheng thought he had lost all ability to speak. When he realized Dejun was still waiting for an answer, he snapped himself out of his daze. “You might stay with me,” he said. “For—for a while.”

“Okay,” said Dejun. 

He unfastened the cloak from his shoulders and ripped it into strips. He bound first Guanheng’s ravaged arm, murmuring apologies when the dragon hissed in pain, and then the gashes on his chest and belly the best he could. The remainder of the cloak he wrapped around Guanheng, moving with pronounced gentleness when he neared his injuries.

“Give me a moment,” said Dejun. “I didn’t finish the job.”

He carefully lay Guanheng flat on the grass and rose to his feet. Guanheng watched him go, past the bloodied corpse of the wolf beast, further past until he came to a figure lying prone on the ground.

It was the mage. He was injured horribly, hands pressed to his gut. The ground underneath him was soaked red. His head jerked up as Dejun approached, and Guanheng saw his eyes widen when the sword was drawn. 

“No, you can’t,” cried the man, voice high with hysteria. “Do you know who I am? Do you know—”

Guanheng turned away as the sword came down. 

Dejun returned, sword sheathed, pack shouldered, hand rubbing at the blood on his face. He cut a square of black pelt from the beast—“If the villagers wish to see it,” he explained—and then he returned to Guanheng. He smiled at him, reassuring almost, before he crouched down. Then he hooked one arm behind Guanheng’s knees and the other at his back, and lifted Guanheng up and into his arms. 

Guanheng could offer no help, but Dejun had no need of it. He carried Guanheng easily. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “The horses ran off, so I’ll have to carry you until we can find another. Is that okay?”

Guanheng managed a nod. Dejun shifted him in his arms, armor clinking, and then set off south. 

They traveled in silence. Guanheng wasn’t certain he wasn’t in a dream. Dejun held him close to his chest as he walked, arms strong around him. Carefully, Guanheng laid his head against Dejun’s shoulder, half fearful he would wake from his dream. He did not.

They traveled until the sun was near setting, when Dejun carefully set Guanheng down and set up camp. Guanheng sat up, still wrapped in the remnants of Dejun’s cloak, and examined his injuries. The arm was still in a bad state, but the cuts on his chest had closed and healed over already. He felt weak, but not too tired. He did not tell Dejun so, however, not when the beautiful sellsword took up position behind him, giving him his chest to lean on. Guanheng fought the warmth in his gut as he leaned back and watched the sun sink beneath the horizon.

“What now?” he ventured to ask. 

“From my reckoning we’re a few days away from the nearest village,” said Dejun. “We’ll get a horse there, then go back up north. Not to Ahraun, don’t worry.” He chuckled. “We’ll go north west to Xuyang.”

“And then?” asked Guanheng.

“Then further back through Menhjing,” said Dejun. “I need to collect my dues. We’ll go back to the villages and—and your cave.” He swallowed. “You can go home, Guanheng.”

Guanheng was silent for a moment. “Alright,” he said finally. “And where are we going after that?”

Dejun did not speak. Guanheng waited, urging himself to be patient, but his stomach was in knots. Perhaps he had misread the signs. Perhaps Dejun was sick of his company, and wanted nothing more than to be finally rid of him. He held out for an uncharacteristically long time before he broke.

“You don’t have to take me along if you don’t want to,” he blurted out. “I know you work alone, I only thought, perhaps, if you needed assistance—though you definitely do not, you can take care of yourself—but maybe company, or—or…” 

Still Dejun said nothing. Carefully, Guanheng turned, unsure of what he might see on his beautiful face.

Dejun kissed him.

It was brief, soft, as light as a feather against Guanheng’s lips. He blinked and it was over, and he was staring at Dejun’s face, at his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Only the slightest trace of warmth lingered on Guanheng’s lips.

“Sorry,” said Dejun, face tinted the loveliest shade of pink. “It just felt right.”

“Alright,” said Guanheng stupidly. “Yes. I agree.”

Dejun let out a breath and giggled.

“You can do it again, if you like,” said Guanheng without thinking.

Dejun laughed again. And then he leaned forward and kissed Guanheng once more, long and sweet. 

The next morning, Guanheng rose first. He folded his bedding first, packed as much of their makeshift camp as he could. Dejun was still fast asleep, and when Guanheng was done he took a moment to watch his sleeping face. Guanheng’s arm had healed overnight, but Dejun was only a man, and his wounds were slow to heal. Guanheng knew humans did not shake off injuries so soon, and Dejun had carried him for hours just the day before. 

Guanheng thought it right to return the favor.

He shifted from his third form to his second, and then, very gently, prodded Dejun with a toe. When Dejun woke and saw him his eyes went wide in surprise, but with little effort Guanheng was able to explain what he wanted. Dejun blinked, even more taken aback, and then he nodded.

And so they traveled, two as one, on the winding stony road. Dejun lay down flat on his front across Guanheng’s back, face pressed to the mane of snow white hair that grew from behind his head. 

“We’re heading north,” said Dejun. When Guanheng nodded, he said, “You want to carry me all the way to Xuyang?”

That was exactly what Guanheng wanted. He wanted to take Dejun wherever he wished to go, stay with him always. He nodded once more.

Dejun laughed, bright and musical, like firework powder thrown into flame. 

“Then let us go,” he said, turning his head to the side and winding his arms about Guanheng’s neck. 

One adventure was done, and a hundred more waited ahead. The dragon and the human continued northward.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading up to here, i hope you liked it ♡
> 
> Talk to me if you’d like! I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/alette_star), occasionally [tumblr](https://alette-stars.tumblr.com/), and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/alette_star) ♡


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